


Sunrise Over Sea

by lemon_drizzle_cake



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pogues (Outer Banks), Pre-Canon, post-Kook Year, slow-burn jiara in the background, soooo slow it's basically not even there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_drizzle_cake/pseuds/lemon_drizzle_cake
Summary: The world goes black for a few seconds. How did this happen? Has Kiara really been so self absorbed to have missed something like this? Big John’s gone missing. Possibly died at sea, at this point. Her best friend’s dad, the same Big John that made them popcorn when they watched movies at the Chateau, that let her crash on the pull-out when it got too late to drive home, that always smiled when he saw her.When Big John disappears at sea, Kiara has to come to terms with the childhood friendships that she has let go of since the beginning of high school.Just my take on the post-Kook Year reckoning we all know must have happened.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Kiara & John B. Routledge, Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta-ed by the lovely and amazing [YellowLaboratory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowLaboratory/pseuds/YellowLaboratory) and [RaeOfFrickingSunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeOfFrickingSunshine/pseuds/RaeOfFrickingSunshine), THANK YOU for being my therapists, lol.
> 
> Title from John Butler Trio.

Sarah Cameron's infamous 16th birthday party falls on the first weekend of 10th grade, and suddenly Kiara finds herself completely shunned at school. Like a leper. Not only would no-one talk to her, they totally refuse to acknowledge her presence. 

About a week later, the entire island is grappling with the news of Big John being lost at sea. And things have gone to complete and utter shit, apparently, so much so that Kiara has to hear it first from her freaking _mother,_ of all people. 

“It’s a shame, what happened,” Anna Carrera comments, almost off-handedly. At first, Kiara barely lifts her head from her breakfast. Her mother has a sixth sense for Island gossip, and Kiara is desperate to signal that she is _not_ interested. 

But her mother sounds way more upset than she normally would for an early morning chit-chat. She moves her chair closer to Kiara, turns her whole body towards her and gives her one of her looks. “Honey, if you need to talk… I know you haven’t hung out with John B in a long time, but you two used to be so close.”

And, well, that catches her attention.

“What?” Kiara mutters, finally looking up from her cereal. “What happened to John B?”

Anna stares at her with odd, scrutinizing eyes. “You haven’t heard?” she says, and then her face shifts into a softer expression. “Oh, honey, Big John’s been missing for a few days. He went out on his boat and nobody’s heard from him since, there’s been a search party and all. I thought you knew.”

“Big John’s _what_?” she practically cries, and she can literally feel her own blood as it drains from her face. Kiara looks white as a ghost, she’s sure of it, because her mom speaks softly to her, taking one of her hands in hers. 

“I really thought you knew.”

The world goes black for a few seconds. How did this happen? Has Kiara really been so self absorbed to have missed something like this? Big John’s gone missing. Possibly died at sea, at this point. Her best friend’s dad, the same Big John that made them popcorn when they watched movies at the Chateau, that let her crash on the pull-out when it got too late to drive home, that always smiled when he saw her. 

She can’t believe it. She just can’t believe it.

Her first instinct is to run to the Chateau to check on John B, hug him close and let him know how terribly _sorry_ she is, but she doesn’t. Because she’s been gone almost a year, she can’t even remember the last time she texted any of them, let alone talked to them, and now she’s not sure what the correct protocol is for showing up for a friend after leaving them for so long. It makes her bones ache, this distance between them. The fact that she knows he’s hurting, she can feel it in her blood, like phantom pain, and yet she doesn’t know how to be there for him. If he’d even want her to, after all this time.

She tries to call, she really does, picks up the phone and stares at his name on the contact list multiple times, but it’s too hard. She settles on a text. Writes it and deletes it a thousand times, finally sends a lame, _‘I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry.’_

John B doesn’t respond, and frankly she’s not even sure he’s seen it.

She doesn’t blame him.

* * *

A few days later, JJ of all people shows up at her door. Well, not really at her door. She finds him at the back entrance of the Wreck at the end of her shift, leaning against his bike and smoking nervously in the corner of the staff parking lot. He stubs the cigarette as he sees her, walks up to her.

“Hey,” he says, just that. His eyes settle on her face for less than a second before falling resolutely to the ground. She wants to say so many things, ask so many questions, apologise all the way to tomorrow. And yet nothing comes out of her mouth.

“I dunno if you heard, but Big John’s gone missing,” he tells her, staring intently at the asphalt at their feet. Kie feels a solid lump in her throat.

“Yeah, I–” she stutters, and her voice feels rusty, as if she hadn’t spoken in a hundred years. “I texted him. Didn’t know–” 

She leaves that thought without finishing it. Didn’t know what to say to him; didn’t know if he’d like her to try.

“Yeah, well. He’s not doing very well,” says JJ, still not looking at her. He takes a deep breath, his eyes darting towards the edges of the lot, scanning the dumpster bins behind her. “I thought maybe you might want to come by. See for yourself.”

Her heart swells in her chest. JJ is not good at asking for favours, and she’s sure she’s not anywhere near the top of his list of favourite people at the moment, but if there's one person JJ would fuck himself over for, it's John B. She’s nodding furiously before she even realises, trying her best to keep the tears prickling at the back of her eyes from falling.

“Yes, uhm, of course. I’ll be there. I– ugh… tonight?” she checks the time on her phone, does some mental calculations. “I need to go home and shower, but I can be there in, like, an hour or so. I can bring food? Anything else he needs?”

_A father,_ is the obvious answer, but JJ is kind enough not to say it. He doesn’t say much, in fact, barely reacting to her word vomit. 

He nods back at her, and he briefly lifts his eyes to look at her.

She feels like her skin might burn under his gaze.

* * *

Fifty-four minutes later, Kiara is standing outside her car, parked in front of the Chateau. She has a cooler full of food with her, quickly packed with anything from her fridge she thought her parents might be able to spare, and three take-out bags from the Wreck. And she is terrified.

The day before starting high school, over a year ago now, she had come here early in the morning. John B had gotten the HMS Pogue ready and they’d all set out to make the most of the last day of summer. Many hours later, their skin raw and wrinkly from the salty water, they’d all collapsed on the hammock outside, swinging lazily as the afternoon turned into dusk. She’d stayed until the sky was dark, the sun long gone, and her mother had come to pick her up to take her home.

In those long, still moments, surrounded by the sounds of the marshes, so close to her favourite people that you couldn’t really tell when one started or ended, Kie had made the boys promise they wouldn’t turn their backs on her, now that she was forced against her will to be away from them. And oh, the irony.

The truth is, she’s the one who left them behind, not long after. Not by choice, and not even entirely consciously – school just absorbed so much of her life, between the exhausting commute to the mainland and back and the piles of homework that teachers dumped on them on a daily basis. And then, well. Then she met Sarah.

Kiara had still clung to the notion that the Pogues were her best friends long after meeting Sarah. In fact, she had resisted Sarah’s attempt to ascribe the title to herself for months, even once she had stopped hanging out with the boys. She’d insist that Sarah was her best _girl_ friend, or her best _high school_ friend. Eventually, Sarah snappily pointed out that she never really saw these so-called best friends, and that forced Kie to finally pause and face the truth. By the time her birthday came around in January, things had been radio silent between them for so long that she didn’t even think to invite the boys to the party her mom was planning. She told herself it was best that way, that the boys would hate being forced into a room full of Kooks, that her classmates would very likely say something or do something that’d make the Pogues uncomfortable. 

Now she wonders what would have happened if she’d swallowed her pride and reached out to them. If their years-long friendship could have been salvaged before it went utterly and completely down the drain.

Kiara takes in the house in front of her and tries to gather the courage to walk inside. She can make out the faint light of the living room filtering through John B’s window, and she can picture the boys inside so clearly. 

She takes a deep breath, then another. Her right arm is aching under the weight of the cooler she’s been holding for too long. Finally, she climbs the front steps of the Chateau and pushes the door open.

As she steps past the screeching door, Kie’s immediately hit by the familiar smell of _home_ that the old fishing shack emanates. All the lazy days she spent here, all the easy laughter around this kitchen table, all the nights piled up on the couch with the boys. All those years of friendship that was more than that – it was family, and a promise of forever. She crosses the kitchen towards the main room, her eyes immediately drawn to the corner where the pull-out sits comfortable under the dirty windows. The Pogues are there, legs and limbs interlinked in a tangled mess, the rattling sound of one of Big John’s old VHS tapes coming from the even older TV. Pope’s head turns towards the kitchen at the noise of her entrance, and his expression shifts – attention razor-sharp on her.

“Kie,” he whispers, eyes fixed on her and unmoving.

As if reacting to Pope’s call, John B’s head snaps instinctively to follow his gaze. “Kie?”

There’s a baffled look on his face, one that makes Kiara’s heart swell in her chest in a way that is both warming and painful at the same time. There’s a new harshness about John B’s features, one that wasn’t there on the boy she knew – most likely a combination of his face shaping out and losing his childish roundness, and all the worry and sleepless nights he must be going through. He looks so much older than the last time she saw him. 

She steadies herself, gulping down the sudden dryness in her mouth and putting on a guarded smile.

“Hey, boys,” she says, and allows herself to scan around the room. JJ is sitting quietly in the corner of the couch, his eyes low to the ground – the only one of them seemingly unbothered by her presence. She lifts the takeout bags before placing them on the table, drops the cooler at her feet. “I brought food.”

It seems like the boys have taken a vow of silence, one that somehow prevents them from moving, too. Kiara takes a deep breath, gathering her feelings, and then strides across the room and plants herself in front of John B.

“I’ve heard what happened,” she says, and she can already feel the tears building up in the corner of her eyes, so she throws all caution to the wind and throws herself in John B’s arms. “I’m so sorry, John B,” she whispers, head pressed so close to his that his scruffy hair is tickling her cheek.

John B seems completely stunned for a second, but then he wraps his arms around her and hides his face in her shoulder, and she feels him heave a sigh so deep that her whole soul vibrates with it. She reaches up a hand to the back of his neck and strokes him gently – as if it were still normal, as if she’d never stopped doing this.

“You came,” he mutters into her shirt – soft and tentative and so _small._

She feels it deep in her chest, the need to burst out crying and plead for forgiveness, the tears that she’s desperate to shed. “Yes,” she says, “I’m here.”

They hold onto each other for a few long, silent moments. John B’s breathing feels shallow and inconsistent, his clasp strong around her waist. Kiara bites down her lip to stop her feelings from slipping out of her. Forever ago she would have exchanged a look with Pope and JJ, wordlessly checking on the best course of action. Now, she can’t even bring herself to look at them, afraid of the judgement she might find. Instead, she zeroes in on John B, the exact spot where his tense shoulders meet her ribs. She slides a hand along his arm and gives his a little squeeze. 

“Hey, uhm, why don’t we step outside for a minute? Get some fresh air?” she whispers in his ear. John B nods, his fingers curling around hers. She helps him up from the couch and he follows her out the back door. 

She lets go of his hand once they’re on the porch, yet she’s hyper-aware of his presence just behind her. They walk down the backyard, to the water, and Kie pretends not to notice the wetness in his eyes, or the nervous way he wipes them off when he thinks she’s not looking.

She takes a seat on the edge of the dock, her feet dangling just above the dark surface of the water. John B mimics her, slouching down in the opposite corner. His back is straight against the wooden beam, a hollow look in his eyes. It feels wrong, all this distance between them; she feels like she should close it, move next to him, be there for him. But she can’t bring herself to do it.

John B is fidgeting with his hands, the rhythmic thud of his foot tapping on the deck the only sound breaking the silence between them. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t replied to your text, the other day,” he suddenly says. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I-”

“Hey, no, of course,” she cuts him off. What is this even, why on Earth is John B _apologising_ to her? She searches for his eyes, earnestness seeping through her from every pore. “I’m the one who’s sorry, I should have come by earlier.” The words catch in her throat, but she still forces herself to add, “I should have never left.”

It’s the ugly truth between them, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She had promised them she would never leave them, and then look at what happened. She completely abandoned them. She’s bracing herself for what will come next, whether John B will spew accusations at her, confront her about her shitty behaviour. She’d deserve it, clearly, and yet she doesn’t know if she’d be able to keep it together, to accept her due as stoically as she should.

What happens instead is: John B shakes his head lightly at her. He moves from his spot and crawls across the deck, scooting close to her. She lifts her arm to make space for him, and he leans his head down to rest in her lap – as if it were the most natural thing to do. And, somehow, it feels like it is. John B’s chest rises and falls with his breathing, his body warm against her thighs. Kiara puts a hand over his shoulder, gently strokes his arm up and down. 

She doesn’t prompt him to talk, it wouldn’t feel right. She can feel him taking deep breaths, as if he were building himself up, but nothing comes out of him the first few times. 

“Everyone’s starting to think he won’t be back,” he finally says – and it’s so quiet she almost misses it.

She squeezes his shoulder, does her best to ignore the sudden knot in her throat.

“I’m sure it’s not true,” she manages to say. “I saw the search party leaving from the marina the other day. The entire island is looking for him.”

John B shakes his head into her lap. “Yeah, the first couple of days, maybe. It’s already scaled down so much there’s barely anyone out there. The police say they’re still looking, but I know a lie when I see one, Kie. They’re giving up on him.” It feels like the entire night is closing in on them, the darkness and the sounds of the marshes almost oppressive. “What if he’s somewhere out there and he needs help, Kie?” 

Kiara blinks a few times, eyes fixed on the water. She’s glad that John B can’t see her face. 

“I’m sure he’s okay, John B. Your dad’s spent his life out on the water, he knows what he’s doing. He’ll be back.”

John B exhales a ragged breath and tightens his hold on her ever so slightly.

“But what if he’s not?”

Kie tries her best to school herself to remain impassive, for his sake.

“It’s never been like this before,” he admits. “Yes, he’s gone a lot, but he always makes sure to send word back one way or another. I’ve been spending days and nights attached to the radio, checking all of the frequencies, hoping to get _anything._ He just left one morning and nobody’s heard from him since. I’m so worried, Kie, I-”

His words catch in his throat with a sickening sob. Kiara’s tears are falling freely down her face, mirroring his. She leans down and wraps his shaking shoulders in her arms, hoping to somehow share a little bit of comfort with him. John B’s arms clasp convulsively around her waist, his face buried in her lap. Kie shushes him gently, murmuring soft reassurances that don’t make much sense to her own ears, and for a while they just hang in there, holding onto each other and crying away their sorrows.

Eventually, John B jerks away from her, propping himself to sitting. He rubs his eyes against the back of his hand, head turned away from her.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Hey, no,” she sniffles back at him. “Of course, anytime. What are friends for, right?”

Her breath catches with anticipation to his reaction, and she hates herself for it. How selfish can she be, worrying about him being mad at her when John B has so much going on at the moment?

But John B glances over to her with a liquid smile. “Thanks, Kie,” he says – and he looks like he means it, too.

She lifts her palms to her face, wiping out the tears, fanning some air into her eyes in a vain attempt at recomposing herself. When she looks at John B next he’s holding himself up out of sheer willpower, his eyes closed and his head dangling slightly forward. Kie lifts herself up, drying her hands against her jeans.

“Come on,” she says, offering him a hand. “Let’s take you back inside.”

John B’s eyes are droopy as he looks up to her, almost unfocused for a moment. He accepts her hand, though, stands up beside her and follows her back to the Chateau.

“You coming in?” he asks her, stepping up onto the back porch.

Kie hangs back, her arms folded over her chest. “In a minute,” she says, her voice wavering just a little.

He nods at her briefly. "You're welcome to stay the night, if you want," he says. Just like old times, except back then he didn’t need to spell it out. She knew already, it used to be an unspoken agreement. 

John B pauses once more as he reaches the doorway, turns back towards her. "Thank you for stopping by, Kie. It's good to have you back."

His eyes are still red-rimmed from before, the faintest shadow of a smile lifting the corner of his lips, and just like that she thinks her heart might have grown two sizes bigger. She nods back at him, suddenly unable to speak, and gives him the most confident smile she can manage. It falls from her face immediately as he disappears into the house. Kiara lifts her hands into her hair, grounds herself with a few steadying breaths. She takes a seat on the porch steps, then, hugs her knees close to her chest and gazes into the night. She focuses on the sounds around the Chateau, so familiar it’s like they run in her veins. The soft whoosh of the tide, the chirping of the crickets in the grass of the marshes, the tree branches moving slightly in the light evening breeze coming from the sea. The soft voices inside the house, quiet murmurs of childhood friends that only need so many words to understand each other. She misses it all so acutely, being one of them. Part of their lives, for good and bad. 

She’s still wrapped into her thoughts when the screen door screeches behind her and JJ steps outside on the porch. He stops just behind her, and it takes her a few seconds to realise he’s handing her a beer. She accepts it gladly, taking a sip as he plops down on the steps next to her. 

“Hey, so, I don’t know what you told him, but he’s asleep in his bed, so I guess it worked.”

Kie thinks back to the dark circles under John B’s eyes, his shattered expression. “Looked like he needed it,” she says, and JJ hums in agreement.

“Pope still here?” 

JJ nods, taking a swig of his own beer. “He collapsed on the pullout.”

She takes a good look at him, his pale face, the shadows under his eyes that mirror John B’s.

“You look like you could use some sleep, too,” she says, gently.

“Yeah, well,” he scoffs, gaze lost in the sky above the Chateau. He nods back towards the house, shrugs a shoulder. “He’s been having trouble sleeping,” he adds, as a way of explanation.

“You guys been staying over, I suppose?” she asks. JJ spends most nights at the Chateau at the best of times, so there’s no doubt in Kiara’s mind that he hasn’t left John B’s side since Big John’s disappearance. And Pope would probably want to be around, too. 

JJ turns his head towards her, meets her gaze. He nods again, running a hand through his untamed locks. “He doesn’t like being alone. Never has,” he mutters. 

She remembers that. John B always hated it whenever Big John was gone for a few nights. They used to all pile up on the pullout and watch old movies until morning – Kiara always had to lie to her parents about the lack of adult supervision on those occasions. 

“Do you think he’ll be back?” she whispers, and her own words make her shiver. 

JJ takes a very long time to answer. She ventures a glance towards him, sees the conflicted expression on his face.

“Honestly?” he finally says, his voice low and quiet. “I don’t know, Kie. He’s been gone over a month now. Realistically, the chances are getting slim.”

That throws her off completely. “A month? What–” she stumbles upon her words. “But I thought, the search party… that was less than a week ago…”

JJ glances towards her, vaguely studying her. He leans back against the railing and pulls his knees up to his chest, messing with his hair once again. He bites down on his lip, eyes switching away from her and into the yard. “He’d been gone over three weeks before we reported him missing,” he tells her. His tone is even, measured, in a way she can’t quite read. 

She feels so stupid. 

“That’s a long time,” she says.

JJ nods back, staring off into the distance. There’s a suspicious glint in his eyes, and she quickly buries her gaze in the dirt at their feet.

“So, you guys been here, then? This whole time?”

JJ exhales the biggest breath she didn’t know he was holding. He moves around a little, rearranging in his seat. She kind of forgot how fidgety he was. It’s a little unsettling. 

“JB’s uncle was here at the very beginning, but had to split again,” he says. “And you know Pope’s folks, dude has to go home every few days or they’ll have his head. Plus he’s working at Heyward’s, like, all the time now.” He pauses to take a swig of his beer, his glance passing briefly over her before returning to the yard. “But other than that… I moved some shifts around at the hotel to be here when Pope’s manning the store. But the season’s dying down now, so.” 

She finds herself staring at him, not sure what to say. Yes, she knew they’d be here for John B, of course they would; she didn’t necessarily imagine they’d have a freaking schedule to make sure he was never alone, though. No wonder they’re all exhausted. 

JJ runs a hand over his tired face, oblivious to her thoughts, to the ache behind her heart. “To be honest, the past year hasn’t been easy,” he admits to her, quiet words into the night. “Big John was growing even more erratic than usual, leaving home for weeks at a time, spending money meant for bills and all.”

Kie feels like she’s been stabbed in the guts, and she can’t complain, really, because she deserves it. All of this was happening and she didn’t know, she didn’t know because she abandoned them. Her friends, her boys. Her family.

“I should have been here. I’m sorry,” she whispers, so low she’s not sure he’d hear her.

JJ shrugs, and it’s so casual it almost hurts. 

“It’s fine, Kie. No one blames you.” They both know he’s not just talking about this past few weeks anymore. JJ sends a sheepish look her way for a brief second before training his eyes firmly on the ground at their feet. “We kind of always knew that you’d eventually realise you were too good for us. Figured the time had come.”

And wow, that _definitely_ hurts. 

“That’s not true, JJ,” she manages to say. “And that’s not what happened, by the way.”

JJ shrugs, gives her a look that seems to be asking, _isn’t it, though?_

“Whatever,” he says, “What, like, Miss Kook Princess Sarah Cameron isn’t better for you than us Pogues, in your folk’s eyes? We get it, Kie. As I said, it’s not like we didn’t see it coming.”

Despite herself, Kie flinches slightly at the mention of her former friend. It’s still too raw, too painful.

“Sarah and I are not friends anymore,” she says quietly. “Part of me wonders if we ever were.”

In the corner of her eye she sees that JJ does a double take. She doesn’t blame him, really. She and Sarah have been attached at the hip for months, including this whole past summer – very visibly to the boys. The breakup is still fresh, and they’ve clearly had bigger things to worry about while she was busy questioning her life choices and friendships, so she’s not surprised he hadn’t noticed.

“Uhm, okay,” he finally says. Then he shuffles slightly next to her, in that nervous way he moves when he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Do you, dunno, wanna talk about it?”

Kiara lifts her eyes to the sky, shaking her head. “Not really, no.”

JJ nods, silence falling between them, and she’s so grateful he’s not pushing it. It’s been so long since she’s been around him, around them, and yet it’s so easy to fall back into their old dynamic. How comfortable everything feels.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, and he turns to look at her. “I’ve really missed you guys, every day. I wanted to come back, believe me, I just–” she takes a deep breath, and yet she makes a point not to drop her gaze. “I just didn’t know how. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me, anymore.”

JJ is still looking at her, his expression unreadable. God, she wishes he’d say something, this silence is so intense. Eventually she’s the one breaking off first, diverting her eyes, shaking her head into the ground. “I fucked up, I know that. And I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness, but I’m here now, and I want to be here for you guys, if you let me, and–”

“Kie,” he stops her, softly. She looks at him, and realises she has tears in her eyes. She fights them back because, no, she’s not doing this, playing the wounded damsel to win back their manly sympathy. She’s not gonna take the easy way out.

“It’s okay,” he says. Then he smiles at her, dimple in his cheek and all, and it’s soft and quiet and almost sad. “We still love you, you know.”

She lifts her face to the sky, blinks a couple of times too quickly. Wills her tears away. JJ shuffles again next to her, wrestling something out of his pocket. His zippo clicks into the night, soon followed by a whiff of the familiar scent of weed. She turns her head slowly towards him and catches him exhaling the first puff and passing the joint on to her, held between his index finger and his thumb. It’s a sign of friendship, a gesture of reconciliation, and Kie sees it for what it is. She still knows these boys like the back of her hand, after all. So she stretches a hand out and accepts the offer. Takes a few inhales ( _god,_ it’s been a while), passes it back to him. She slowly exhales the warm smoke into the night and enjoys these perfectly still moments, JJ just two feet away.

“Besides,” he says after a beat, huffing smoke out of his lungs, “Your boobs grew, like, three sizes since you’ve been gone. That’s a sure ticket to any forgiveness you’ll ever need.”

She snorts out a laugh, at that, and it comes out halfway as a sob. She swats away at his arm, and catches the playful smirk on his face.

“Hey, just speaking the truth,” he says, hands raised. And god, Kiara could hug him right now.

Instead she leans in, snaps the half-smoked joint from his fingers once more, leans back against the wooden railing across from him and takes a couple of hits in silence.

The door screeching on its hinges almost startles her, but JJ barely turns his head at the sound. It’s another reminder of all the little things she’s forgotten, the sounds of the Chateau, the easy coming and going of people. Pope closes the screen door behind him, looking ruffled from sleep. He shuffles towards them, making grabby hands at JJ until he passes him his beer. Pope takes a swig, then lays down carefully on the floor, lying his head on JJ’s leg.

“Hey, Kie,” he says. He stretches a hand towards her and she takes it, accepting his light squeeze.

“Hey,” she says, quiet.

“You good?”

She looks at them, really looks at them. JJ’s body sprawled back, relaxed, lazily bringing the stub of the joint to his lips every few seconds. His hand casually resting on Pope’s shoulder, eyes closed and curled against him. She’s always loved the casual affection the boys have between them (used to have for her, too). They’re always touching each other, whether rough-housing or slapping each others’ backs or hugging or anything. And when it’s dark outside and they’re sleepy, like now, it all gets quiet and they just fall in place with one another. “Yeah, I’m good,” she says, and realises it’s true. Sure, she wishes the circumstances were better, she wishes there weren’t a freaking tragedy hanging over them. But for months now she’s been sure she’d never get to have this again, that she’d burned that bridge and there was no coming back, that the boys would hate her forever for ditching them and leaving them behind.

But they don’t.

They’ve welcomed her back with open arms, and for some reason she can’t fathom they seem genuinely happy to have her around.

She’s going to savour this moment, this feeling, to the fullest. And she’s never, ever going to leave them again.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiara works on rebuilding her relationship with the Pogues. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta [YellowLaboratory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowLaboratory/pseuds/YellowLaboratory) for all her hard work making sense of my delirious rambling, and to the whole [jiara gc](https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/gcshenanigans) for the constant hype and positivity :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Kie ends up staying over at the Chateau, that first night.

She wakes up early the next morning, the sun hitting her relentlessly in the eyes. She’s burrowed in a corner of the pull-out, a flimsy pillow completely squished under her head. Pope is curled at the foot of the bed, like a cat. 

She checks her phone for time, finds a text from her mom. Kiara had messaged last night to let her know she was staying over. Blatantly lied about John B’s uncle being here to watch them, obviously. 

**_Mom [7:01]_ **

_Need us to pick you up? Don’t forget your shift this morning! x_

As if she would. Kiara hasn’t missed a shift at the Wreck since before her parents started paying her for her work. She rolls her eyes and tries to suppress the urge to get back at her with a sarcastic quip that definitely wouldn’t help. 

**_Kie <3 [7:36]_ **

_I’m up. Be back soon, no worries._

She types instead.

There’s barely any time between her sending the message and her mom calling her back. Kiara takes a deep breath, then steps outside on the porch to not disturb Pope.

“Mom, yes, I’ll be home shortly,” she says as she picks up, and then she almost stumbles into JJ, asleep on the sofa – face down, an arm dangling over the edge. He starts awake as she gently pulls the screen door closed behind her, sends her a slightly confused and very sleep-addled look. _‘My mom,’_ Kiara mouths pointing at her phone, then rolls her eyes for good measure.

“Morning, love. Was everything alright overnight? Just wanted to make sure you’ll be back in time for your shift.”

“Yes, I know Mom. I’m not working until ten.”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t know if you’d packed a change of clothes, and I thought you’d want to take a shower and have some breakfast before–”

“Mom. I’m on my way, okay? Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. And… How is John B doing?”

Kiara leans over the porch railing, looks out into the yard. The marsh glistens in the golden light of the sunrise. 

“He’s… you know.”

She can almost hear her mom nodding at the other end of the call. There’s a somewhat awkward pause until her mom picks up on the fact Kie is not going to say anything more about it.

“Alright then, sweetheart. We’ll speak when you get home.”

“Mhm.”

“Drive safe!”

She hangs up and turns back on herself. JJ is looking at her.

“All good?” he asks, his hair sitting on his head in the most ridiculous mess she’s ever seen. She takes a deep breath, pushes her hair out of her face with her fingers.

“Yeah. I need to go, though. Got work this morning.”

“Alright, cool. What time you done?”

“I’m off at four. You?”

JJ hides a yawn into his elbow, stretches his back and his shoulders before leaning back into a slouch on the couch. 

“JB and I are at the marina ‘til seven. Pope closes at the store on Sundays, and then will probably have to show his face at home tonight.” He pauses, sends her a look from under his eyelashes. “We’ll be here, though. Care to join us?” 

Her heart does a little cartwheel in her chest before dropping at her feet. “I… I can’t, JJ. Sorry.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

“It’s just, I have a ridiculous curfew on school nights. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll be back though. I promise.” She waits until he meets her gaze, because it’s important he gets it. She’s not leaving again. She’s here to stay. 

JJ nods back at her, and she allows herself a mini sigh of relief.

“Okay. Uhm, will you say bye from me to the others? I don’t feel they’d appreciate me waking them up at the crack of dawn, so.”

JJ smirks at her, and she has to smile back.

“Yeah, sure. See ya, Kie.”

She waves him bye over her shoulder as she steps back inside to pick up her bag. Pope’s still asleep at the foot of the couch, the door to John B’s room still closed. She gathers her things and she’s out of the door in no time.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it’s almost a week before Kiara sees the boys again. She doesn’t work on weeknights when school’s in session – but the boys do, and Kie has a stupidly early bedtime to make it to the stupidly early ferry in time. 

A year ago, back when Kiara lost the fight over her parents shipping her to the Kook Academy for high school, she put her foot down at boarding there like most of the other students from Kildare. Her mom was hesitant, because she was a boarder back in her day, but Kiara found a surprise ally in her dad. Mike Carrera was on the same page with his wife on many things, and giving Kiara a good education and better opportunities than he had growing up was on top of the list, but he still retained a certain uneasiness when things got a bit too excessive. So, Kie was allowed to enroll as a day-student, and travel back to Kildare every day after school. 

It felt like a victory at the time, her only way to assert her agency in a situation that was way out of her hands. And still, Kiara far from regrets the decision. Yet it quickly became clear to her that she had massively underestimated the toll of taking the 5:40 AM ferry every morning and not being back home until almost six in the evening. Her dad would have liked her to keep working at the restaurant, and her mom was really keen on her joining all the extra-curricular clubs, but Kiara simply didn’t have _time_ for either of those things. Monday to Friday, her life was a cycle of wake up before dawn, get her ass to school, survive the day, do as much homework as possible on the way back, get home, have dinner, finish the rest of her neverending homework, shower, collapse in bed. Rinse and repeat.

Now, keeping up with the Pogues feels as impossible as it felt last year, and Kiara has no expectation of things suddenly getting easier. The difference is, she’s now determined to make it work. She’s learnt the hard way what it feels like to not have them in her life, the sense of longing that’s like missing a part of yourself. And she doesn’t have Sarah to distract her from the void, anymore.

So yeah, the week goes by with no contact with the boys – except now she texts them everyday, and they (mostly) text her back. But it’s finally Friday, and she doesn’t have to work at the Wreck tonight, so she packs up an overnight bag, stuffs as many snacks as she can fit, and heads out of the door.

The Chateau is always the same old shack, but she’s a different person entirely from the girl who awkwardly stood in front of it a week ago, cooler in hand, mustering up the courage to get inside. This time she skips up the steps in one fell swoop and pushes the door open with no hesitation.

Except there’s another person at the other end, pulling the same door on his way out – a man she’s never seen. Kiara quickly drops her hand from the handle, stunned into silence. The stranger sends her a curious look, eyebrow crooked.

“Who are you?”

“Uhm… hi. I’m Kiara.”

“Oh. Hello, then.” He offers a hand and she shakes it tentatively. “I’m Ted. I’m Johnny’s uncle. You looking for him?”

“Yeah, I-”

Ted has already backed into the kitchen, gesturing for her to follow. 

“The boys are outside,” he says, pointing in the direction of the shed through the window. Kiara can make out Pope’s figure if she squints through the dirty glass. “You staying for dinner? I was about to go grab some take-out.”

“Oh, I brought some food, too,” Kiara remembers, and soon she’s extracting bags of chips and M&Ms from her backpack and laying them on the counter. When she opens the fridge and drops in two pounds of apples and a tupperware of carrot sticks, Ted sends her a weird glance.

“Uhm, I don’t know about those, the boys are not exactly into healthy living.”

“Oh, I know,” she counters with a shrug. “No harm in trying, though, right?”

The fridge is slightly less desolate than it was last week, she’s pleased to notice, but only slightly. There is more beer, though, which is never a bad thing. 

The sound of the toilet flush comes crisp and clear through the paper-thin walls, followed by heavy footsteps through the hall. 

“Yo, T,” JJ starts, stomping into the kitchen, then he pauses and grins wide when he sees her. “Kie!”

He comes up and wraps his arms around her, practically lifting her off the ground. 

“Uhg, hi,” she says, taken aback, but he’s already hopping over the counter, feet dangling against the cabinets, scrunching open one of the bags of chips she brought.

“Is dinner here yet?” he asks, mouth full, and Kie squints at him in vague disgust. Ted shakes his head, a chuckle on his lips as he waves JJ off.

“Was just about to go pick up the pizzas. That reminds me,” he turns towards Kie, “Any preference?”

“Oh. Anything vegetarian is good, please,” she says, and Ted nods back with a knowing smile. 

“I sense a pattern here,” he says, finger wagging at her. “Admit it, the carrot sticks are for you, uh?” Then he erupts into a belly laugh, and Kiara's struck by how familiar it sounds. It's Big John's laugh, she realises. The thought sends a jolt through her stomach, and she has to muster all her inner strength not to drop her face completely. But Ted’s still smiling, oblivious to her thoughts. “Good thinking, I have to admit, not much fresh produce in this household I’m afraid. Alright, kids, be back soon!”

And with a quick mock-salute at them, he’s out of the door. 

JJ jumps off the counter as the engine of Ted’s truck starts roaring outside. He scrunches the (now half-empty) bag of chips closed and wipes his greasy fingers on his cargo shorts.

“Come on, let’s go grab the others,” he tells her, head nodding towards the shed outside.

She has to practically jog to keep up with his pace, but as soon as they step on the porch she can already hear John B and Pope bantering loudly in the distance, voices carrying over with the wind, and all is good in the world.

Let the weekend begin.

* * *

The next week drags in the usual blur of school and homework. She misses the boys every moment she’s not with them, and she seriously considers more than once ditching her curfew and her parents and heading to the Chateau after school – just to see them. 

She doesn’t talk about it with the boys at all, nor with her parents for that matter, but things at school pretty much suck at the moment. It’s been a few weeks since the disaster that was Sarah Cameron’s birthday party, and it’s getting clear that nobody is going to let go of that anytime soon. The entire school took Sarah’s side, quickly labelling Kiara a snitch for calling the cops on them. Which, fair, kind of. She did call the cops, after all. But it’s not as if they know that, they just all blindly believe it because that’s what Sarah told them, and Sara’s word is Gospel around here. 

What hurts the most is that Kie only did it to force Sarah into a confrontation, force her to tell her what the hell happened, why all of a sudden Kiara wasn’t welcome anymore. But alas, that backfired spectacularly, and Kie never even got her explanation out of it.

Kie bites the inside of her cheeks and walks around the hallways with her head held high, determined not to show any sign of weakness to these sharks. Honestly, fuck them. She’s used to standing on her own, she prides herself on her independence, and she’s never even wanted to be accepted by these idiots Kooks, anyway, not really. But. 

She keeps crossing paths with Sarah in the hallways, noticing how she makes a point not to look at her, not to even glance in her direction for a second. And it hurts in a way so acute that Kie doesn’t even have proper words to describe it. It’s a feeling of something big coming to an end, crashing and burning, and she doesn’t even know what happened, or why. 

That’s probably the part that hurts the most.

* * *

Things fall into a kind of new normal. Uncle T comes and goes. He sleeps in Big John’s room and doesn’t seem to have any type of problem with the Pogues being a permanent fixture at the Chateau. 

Ted is a weird character. He’s a good ten years younger than Big John, if Kiara had to guess, and he seems way out of his depth when it comes to handling teenagers. Mostly, he lets them be – which is totally fine by them.

Sometimes he goes to bed at 8pm and leaves in the dead of night to go work on a fishing boat, other times he orders a stack of pizzas and spends the night playing Scrabble with them, passing beers around as if they weren’t all barely fifteen. Then sometimes he’s gone for days at a time, on the mainland or even out of state for business. John B is always better when T is around, his body more relaxed, his laughter more sincere. JJ spends most nights at the Chateau anyway, but he always, always sleeps over when T is not there.

Kiara quickly grows familiar to all of their dynamics. John B adores his uncle in a ferocious way, hanging on his every word. Pope is quieter around him, not as used to him as the other two are, but as Kiara learns first hand it’s really not too difficult to be around Ted. JJ is, next to John B, the one who goes back the most with him, and it shows. He calls him ‘T’ to his face, but often slips and mirrors John B’s more affectionate ‘Uncle T’ when talking about him. He bounces around Ted with no inhibitions, bombarding him with his incessant chatter and lame jokes same as he does with the Pogues. T smiles amicably and responds in kind to JJ’s banter, but Kiara can see the tired lines on his face, the hardness behind his eyes when the boys aren’t looking. John B’s lost a father, and Ted has lost a brother, she reminds herself, and tries her best to be gentle around them both.

* * *

Weeks go by with no other purpose than waiting for the weekend, when she can finally be with the boys. They resume their old shenanigans, spending together every rare free moment when their schedules line up. Things are not exactly back to normal, for a number of reasons including the fact that they’re not little kids any more, and they’ve all hit different stages of puberty in the months that she missed. John B and Pope have a new awkwardness around her, that wasn’t there before. Not JJ tough, he seemingly breezes through the newness in their relationship with his usual style, all hyper jokes and dimples and smirks.

“Damn Kie, one can say many things about those Kooks, but sure as hell they turned you _hot_ ,” he proclaims one day. She’s been leaning overboard to unjam the engine of the HMS Pogue, and as she gets back up she can see that awkward look on the boys’ faces that tells her they’ve definitely been staring at her ass as she was doing it. 

And maybe she should feel self-conscious about his shameless compliments, but they actually kind of help. Because JJ is not drooling over her, he’s being his usual pranking self, grinning as he passes her a beer from the cooler. She rolls her eyes as she takes it, mutters, “Shut up, you perv,” and things shift back to how they should be. The four of them, chilling in the late autumnal sun, breeze through their hair. Together. 

Still, some things are clearly not the same as they used to be, and Kiara’s year away hangs over them – unspoken of but ever present. Because things changed for the boys in ways Kiara doesn’t know nor understand; and she went through shit of her own that she doesn’t quite know how to even start to explain – nor if she’d want to.

The boys must have registered that something is off with her, but they’ve been pretty good at avoiding bringing it up. Most of the time, at least. Still, sometimes, they slip. It’s the next Sunday and they’re getting the boat ready to go fishing in the marshes. Pope passes the tackle box on to John B on the HMS, then turns around and takes the cooler of bait out of her hands.

“I bet you didn’t do much fishing with Sarah Cameron last year, did you?” he says with a half-grin.

It’s light, and innocent, and yet Kiara can’t help but snap back in retort.

“Can we please stop talking about freaking Sarah Cameron?”

She feels bad about it instantly, but she can’t take it back, so she just storms back off up the yard and goes to cool off by the shed. She pretends to keep busy just to save face, makes a show of looking for the spare rod John B mentioned was in here somewhere.

It’s a few minutes before JJ appears behind her. He stops just by the threshold, out of her air, leans against the shaky wall of the shed.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, you know.”

Kiara exhales quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She turns around to face him and does a pretty shitty job at hiding her guilt, she’s sure.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

JJ still lingers by the entrance, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You know, if you just told us what happened–”

“Nothing happened,” she cuts him off before he even finishes, decisive.

“Kie.” 

“I’m serious!”

JJ holds her gaze, and she can tell he’s not convinced in the slightest. Still, he schools his face into a gentle smile and relents.

“Okay,” he says. “But, you know. If something _did_ happen… you could tell us.”

She feels like she’s lost all her fight at once. And the thing is, she’s sure she _could_ tell them. They’d listen, and maybe not understand all the girl drama of it, but they’d still offer their sympathy and a hug and then proceed to distract her. She just can’t bring herself to talk about Sarah with them – with anyone, really. There’s nothing left to say, at this point.

“Shall we get back?” she asks, instead.

JJ chews on his lip, looks at her softly in a way that makes her feel self-conscious for a moment, but then it’s gone.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

They walk back down the yard to the dock, where the other two are still busying themselves with the fishing gear. JJ jumps ahead of her on the boat and practically tackles John B as she moves closer to Pope.

“Hey.” She bumps her fist over Pope’s shoulder, lightly. “I’m sorry for being an ass about it. We cool?”

Pope smiles a little smile back at her. “Yeah, sure. Cool.”

Kie takes a quick look around, sees the boys’ eyes fixed on her. Takes a deep breath. “It’s just that... Sarah revealed herself to be a snake of enormous proportions. I don’t really want to talk about her. Okay?”

She knows she’s not being exactly truthful, but also – they don’t really need to know. Pope nods solemnly at her, matched by John B’s serious expression.

“Fuck her,” JJ says, clicking his tongue. He tilts his head to the side and flashes her one of his grins, dimple deep into his cheek. “You have us, right? Everyone knows we’re the superior friends.”

Pope snorts, rolling his eyes, and John B throws a fishing net at JJ. “Come here and untangle this, then, _superior friend_.” 

But it worked, Kiara’s laughing, and the atmosphere is easy and relaxed. 

JJ’s right, though. The Pogues were always the superior friends.

* * *

Since reconnecting with the boys, all Kiara has wanted to do was to try and spend all her free time with them, just like old times. For so many months while she wasn’t talking to them she’s felt like a part of her was missing, and she wasn’t really sure where to point her finger – wasn’t really ready to confront where the problem was. That sense of loss completely vanished as soon as she walked into the Chateau – as soon as John B wrapped his arms around her, and JJ passed her his joint, and Pope came to lie next to her on the pullout. Now that she finally has them back she is absolutely determined not to let them go ever again.

Yet, life goes on with its myriad obligations. As she suspected, fitting the Pogues into her insane schedule is not as easy as meeting up with Sarah after school used to be. 

The boys start coming by the Wreck to hang out, and for a little while it seems like the perfect solution – until it isn’t. It’s maybe the third or fourth time they come, Mike approaches their table and wordlessly leaves their bill in full view. All falls into an awkward silence, uneasy glances being shared. Kie takes her dad by the elbow and pulls him aside behind the bar. Out of earshot.

“Dad, what’s going on? These are my friends!”

Her dad seems unimpressed. He crosses his arms over his chest, looks straight into her eyes. “They can’t keep coming here and expect to be fed for free, Kiara. It’s bad for business.”

“But I told them the food was on the house,” Kiara insists. She’s seen the bill, and she knows for a fact the boys don’t have that kind of money. The Wreck is no fancy restaurant, but it’s still way out of their overstretched budgets.

“Well, you should have run that with me before making promises you can’t keep.”

“But-”

“No, Kiara. It’s not your decision to make.” Her dad huffs out a breath, runs a hand over his eyes. “Look, they’re not little kids anymore, okay? It’s not like back when you used to all line up at the bar and were happy with milkshakes and fries.”

Kiara has to silently concede the point, JJ alone inhaled three burgers in the span of the past half an hour. She bites her bottom lip down, unsure how to get out of the sticky situation she got herself into.

“Look, it’s nothing personal, alright?” her dad continues, “But they either have to start paying for what they eat, or they have to go.”

“Dad they– they just can’t afford this. You know it.”

“Well, that’s not my problem now, is it. They shouldn’t have come to a restaurant and ordered food they knew they couldn’t pay for.”

“Dad, come on, that’s not fair–”

“No, Kiara, you listen to me. Your friends are what, fifteen, sixteen? Kids their age should have learnt a while ago to know their place. Frankly, they’re all old enough to get a job and earn their money for little luxuries, like a burger out with their friends. We’re not running a charity, here.”

Kiara has to bite the inside of her cheeks not to say what she’s thinking: that the boys all actually do work, except their money is not theirs to spend, it goes into their families’ stressed budgets. It’s so unfair. She knows her dad thinks he’s being perfectly reasonable. Her parents make a big deal out of not giving her an allowance but rather making her work for it – which to be fair to them, is not at all the norm among the kids at her preppy school. Still, there is a massive difference between Kiara, who can spend all her money freely, who has unlimited data on her parents’ family phone plan, who gets a wardrobe haul each season, and the list continues; and the boys, who hardly have an intact pair of shoes to their name and need to hustle to feed into their households’ bills. It’s not as if Mike and Anna Carrera expect Kiara to contribute to the mortgage, after all.

But she knows she can’t start this fight. If anything it wouldn’t even be fair to the boys, for her to air their dirty laundry like that. So she doesn’t.

“Okay, what about this,” she starts, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll cover their bill this time. You can keep it from my next paycheck, or I can give you cash, up to you. Fair?”

Her dad struggles to hide his surprise for a moment. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, clicking his tongue.

“Yes. I told them food was on the house, it’s my mistake for not checking with you first. It’s my bad.” She glances back over her shoulders towards the boys, then turns back to her dad. “I’ll make sure they know not to expect any more freebies. Deal?”

Her dad relaxes his jaw, gives her a look that she thinks might be a little bit fond. 

“Alright. I do not think you should be covering for your friends, but I admire your integrity. Just,” he seems to hesitate for a second, as if thinking whether he wants to add anything more. “Think about this moment, Kiara. You don’t want to hang around people who drag you down.”

Kie has to muster all of her strength not to roll her eyes. It definitely wouldn’t be a smart move. She nods in acknowledgment and walks back to meet the boys at their table.

“Guys, I’m sorry, my dad is being insane. You have to go.”

“What about the bill?” JJ asks, and she hates the way he’s shuffling on his feet. She hates to be the one who’s making him feel like this, like he doesn’t belong.

“It’s taken care of, don’t worry,” she’s quick to say. The boys don’t insist, probably relieved not to have to magically produce money they all know they don’t have.

She tries to convey best she can that this is not her idea, that she really doesn’t want to kick them out so unceremoniously – or at all. “I’m sorry. I’ll meet y’all later, okay?”

There’s scrambling at the table, chairs being pushed around, backpacks being picked up. JJ lifts his head from the neat pile of dishes he’s collecting out of habit, gives her a smirk.

“Of course you will,” he tells her. “I’m calling it – Mandatory Power Hour at Rixon’s Cove, 9 PM. You can’t miss it, okay?”

She laughs as they roll out of the glass door, follows them to the threshold. “Of course. Pick me up after my shift? I’m off at eight.”

“We’re on it!”

They’re running off as if there were anyone chasing them, but they keep waving back at her over their shoulders. John B even skips backwards for a few steps, long enough to send her an exaggerated kiss, both hands smacking to his lips and out. Kiara shakes her head to hide her grin, waves them goodbye.

* * *

After the incident at the Wreck, Kiara doubles down hard, committed to spending every single second of her free time with the boys. Her parents have been generally understanding so far, given the circumstances and the sudden disappearance of Big John, but the more times passes the more her mom starts to show signs of her uneasiness at all the time Kiara is now spending on the Cut.

“It’s just… I don’t want you to lose touch with Sarah and the girls, love, that’s all,” she tells her at least once a day.

“Mom, I told you. It’s not like Sarah wants anything to do with me at the moment, so.”

“Oh, Kiara,” her mom replies, “At your age I was falling out with my girlfriends every other week over one thing or another. Give it two weeks top, and I promise you’ll be back to being best friends, like you used to.”

The truth is, Kiara is not sure she ever wants to go back to being Sarah’s best friend, not now that she knows how quickly the girl could drop her like an unwanted bag. She can’t help but think that the boys would never do that to her. They won’t – in fact, they haven’t. She’s the one who went AWOL for months on end, almost a year, and yet they welcomed her back in as if nothing had even happened. That loyalty, that fierce sense of belonging is something that Sarah could never give her, even if they ever managed to get past whatever went down between them. And why would Kiara ever compromise for a half-baked friendship when she can have the real thing?

So, she hums noncommittally to her mother, and sets off to meet the boys at the Chateau anyways.

Ted’s just back from a three-day stint on the mainland for a job, and John B is in an uncharacteristically good mood.

“Boneyard, tonight?” he greets her with a hug, and he’s already passing her his open beer.

“Hey to you, too. Sure, what’s the occasion?”

“Eh, nothing much, just the usual. Same as every weekend,” JJ chirps in, approaching John B with a new beer in each hand. “You in?”

Kie takes a swig at her drink and a look at her friends – smiling, relaxed. Pope’s chilling on the hammock outside, waiting for them. 

“Sure, sounds fun!”

It’s her first time at the Boneyard since last summer, and the first time with the boys since the summer before – before high school and all that it brought on them, back when their friendship was as sure as the sun rising every morning.

And it’s not awkward, and it feels good to sit around the bonfire and sing tunes to John B’s sloppy but eager guitar playing – drinking warm beer from the keg some older kids brought round. 

She’s sitting on a log of driftwood in between Pope and John B, JJ slouched down on the sand at their feet, back leaning against Pope’s leg. There’s other people around the same fire, kids from the Cut she knows and used to hang out with. Peeler is here, and Liam, and one of JJ’s cousins. But still it feels like the world is made of the Pogues alone, the four of them laughing together, golden in the warm light of the bonfire.

John B passes her the guitar to go grab another round of drinks, and Kie starts strumming gently over the strings. She’s not as comfortable as if with her ukulele, but she knows she could pull something out of it if she wanted to. Pope and JJ next to her are going through a play-by-play of their surfing session this afternoon, and Kie can’t hide her smile as she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly at them.

“Will you shut up? There’s no way you could see whether or not Pope was out of balance from where you were standing.”

“You weren’t even there, how would you know?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were actually surfing on Pope’s board with him.”

John B walks back in and hands them their beers, taking a seat at her feet. “What did I miss?”

“Just Kiara talking some sense into JJ,” Pope says.

“What?” JJ’s eyes shift between each of them in turn. “No way, she wasn’t even there! How would she know?”

John B shakes his head. “That doesn’t surprise me, actually, Kie makes a lot more sense than JJ on any given topic.”

Instead of answering, JJ comes in for John B’s nipple, making him squirm away with a distressed squeal. Beer is spilled around, solo cups almost capsized.

“Boys, boys, look out! Jesus Christ…”

They eventually settle, grins wide on their faces. JJ pulls himself up to standing, beer cup hanging from his teeth as he cleans the sand off his hands by smacking his palms against his thighs.

“Anyway, if you excuse me, I have to go show that chick the time of her life,” he says, pointing to a cute blonde who Kie vaguely recognised as a girl a year ahead of them in school. She’s been eyeing JJ insistently for a while, and smiles wide as he winks towards her.

“The poor soul, are you sure you want to afflict her with your presence?” Kie rebuts in the appropriately mournful tone.

“Hey, I’ll have you know no-one’s ever complained.”

“Pff. In your dreams, Maybank.”

“Why, Kie, want to test for yourself? Get some good first-hand knowledge?”

“Oh my god, gross. Stop!”

“I have a long list of references if you want to check before committing.”

“Oh, you mean all the girls you dream about while you’re dead to the world on John B’s hammock? Yeah, I’m sure your imaginary conquests all have raving reviews.”

JJ looks at her in mock offense, which he switches to John B instantly as he bursts out laughing at her quip.

“God, I’ve missed you!” he says with such sincere affection, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a hug. She pats him jokingly over his shoulder, but there’s this intense heat just behind her heart. It’s such a rare occasion to see John B laughing, these days. It makes her want to hold on to him and never let go. 

“You of little faith,” JJ scoffs, “Jealousy isn’t a good look, y’all. Anyways, I’m off, bitches!” And in one swift motion he downs the remainder of his solo cup before briskly stalking over to the blonde.

Kie’s almost transfixed for a moment, watching with mild curiosity as JJ smoothly puts an arm around the girl’s shoulders and leans in to whisper into her ear. She giggles back at whatever he told her, swats lightly at his chest. It’s the first real reminder that as much as she’s changed, in this past year, the boys have changed, too. They’ve grown into bigger bodies, they’ve become cockier around girls, and frankly more successful, too, if she is to give credit to half their stories. And it’s not just that, either. Pope’s more focused than she’s ever known him to be, these days, almost obsessed with school and finding college scholarships and stuff. And John B… Kiara turns around to take a good look at her friend, smiling quietly as the bonfire paints everchanging shadows on his face. On the good days, John B is his old goofy self with a heart of gold, and yet he has this new sadness about him, that shows up when he thinks no-one’s looking. Sometimes Kie just wants to wrap a blanket around all three of them, keep them warm and safe and protected, forever.

They’ve all moved to sit on the sand, because the night is cold and being closer to the fire with their backs shielded by the driftwood helps. Kie’s wearing a fleece-laced flannel that she borrowed from John B back at the Chateau over her clothes, and the sleeves are so long on her that they nicely protect her hands from the night’s air.

It’s a while later when Kie’s glance wanders again and she notices JJ and the blonde gone. She rolls her eyes and bites the inside of her cheek, elbows Pope in the ribs to catch his attention and nips her head at where they used to sit, a suggestive smirk in her eyes. Pope shrugs, smiles back at her. It’s nice, and familiar. She backs further into the driftwood, pulls her shirt tighter around her and closes her eyes, savouring the moment. John B has stopped playing in the meanwhile, only lazily picking a chord here and there absentmindedly. The conversation lags as they get sleepy from the alcohol and the crackling fire, but silence is comfortable and easy. 

Until a commotion breaks further down the beach, angry shouts travelling fast through the air, and all three of them sit up straighter. 

“What the hell-” she hears Peeler say, glancing around in search for the source of the noise.

“Oh shit, that’s JJ,” John B says, and he’s already up and running towards the shore. Kie and Pope soon follow, springing up to their feet in no time. 

As they get closer Pope puts a hand on her arm and pulls her back, stopping her from diving head-first into the fight. John B’s at the edge of the commotion, shouting profanities and gesturing widely. She can barely make out JJ as a blur of blond hair and electric energy tossing around like a pinball. And then her heart drops, because she _knows_ the guys around him. That’s fucking Topper Thornton, an idiot upperclassman at the Academy who’s one of Rafe Cameron’s minions. She doesn’t know the other two by name but she recognises their faces, too. One’s a freaking _waterpolo_ player. 

“JJ, what the hell?” she yells at him. This is bad, you don’t pick up fights with rich fucks from Figure Eight, you just don’t.

But JJ shows no sign of hearing her. She gasps a moment later, as Waterpolo Guy gets a grip on JJ and holds him still for Topper to sucker-punch him in the stomach. There’s a sickening sound coming out of his mouth, and then John B is on them, into the thick of the fight, arms spread between the Kooks and JJ.

“Shit. Stay here,” Pope urges her before jumping in to join them. 

Between the two of them, Pope and John B manage to pull JJ back. There’s a bruise on his jaw and an angry fire in his eyes that sends a shiver down her spine. John B pushes him farther off the crowd, face all twisted.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? The fuck, JJ?”

Pope is keeping the Kook boys at arm’s length, muttering something at them that she can’t hear. Topper gestures angrily at JJ, but it seems that now that John B has him contained the three of them have no interest in keeping up the fight, and soon they leave – barely sparing a dismissive glance their way.

JJ pushes John B off of him, making him stumble backwards on himself. “Do not stand there and tell me what to do, man!” 

John B raises his hands, not taking his bait. 

JJ’s glance darts towards each of them in turn. “What, you with him?”

Pope crosses his arms on his chest, an eyebrow raised in defiance. “Yeah, man. You gotta chill.”

Kiara can’t bring herself to say anything. She’s just been standing here on the sidelines feeling useless, watching her friends get in and out of a fight that looked freakishly scary for a minute. 

“Screw you,” JJ bellows, pointing at Pope and then at John B – and Kiara flinches at the venom in his voice. “Some friends you are!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for saving your ass!” John B yells back, arms wide in dismay. But JJ’s raised a middle finger at him, and is already stomping off in the opposite direction from the Chateau, to fuck knows where.

The three of them are left behind, a tense silence engulfing them in the night.

"Shouldn't we go check on him?" she asks, her voice all thin and hesitant.

John B runs a hand over his tired face. "Nah, Kie. Just JJ being JJ. He needs to cool off a bit." 

"Yeah, and stop acting like a psycho," Pope adds. It’s harsh, maybe unnecessarily so, but Kie thinks she understands. She can almost hear Pope’s heart beating furiously in his chest.

John B walks up to them, puts a hand on Pope’s shoulder. Turns to look her in the eyes.

“Home?” he asks, softly. 

She nods, gulping down the bad taste in her mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s head back.”

Maybe she just has to accept that things have changed while she was gone, that this is the new normal. That JJ, as much as he’s still the same old JJ, has grown more erratic than she remembers him being.

She can’t help feeling a pang in her stomach each time she catches them barely sparing a glance at each other and immediately knowing exactly what they’re all thinking. She has moments in which she looks at them and sees her childhood friends she’s known forever. But then there are moments – like now, feeling helpless as JJ’s tense back disappears into the night – in which she feels like she doesn’t know them at all, anymore. And she’s jealous of their early-morning surf sessions, when the tide comes in, that she misses every time because of her stupid school on the stupid mainland; she’s jealous of the nights they spend together at the Chateau without her, with their lack of curfews and parental supervision.

But then there are other things. Like the way her heart swells with contentment in those moments when they all dogpile on the couch, the warmth of their bodies feeling like a protective shield around her. The way she’s noticed Pope sending her sideway looks every time the others make plans for fishing after school, or anything else she can’t take part of. The way they slowly stop bringing it up at all, and she knows without asking that Pope had a quiet word with them.

October turns into November. She’s been back less than two months, and yet sometimes – most of the time – it feels like she never even left. The weather gets colder and they slowly transition into their winter routine. There’s less work around, now – the Wreck is only open mornings and weekends, Heyward’s business is slow, the boys don’t have much work at all. Things are tighter than ever, and often when Kie sneaks some groceries into the Chateau she’s stacking them into an empty fridge. But there’s also more time for movie nights and cuddles on the sofa, wrapped up under a pile of blankets and curled around the rusty space-heater as the flimsy walls around them crackle in the wind.

Things are far from perfect, but everything feels good, as long as they're together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thanksgiving, but most importantly _Friendsgiving,_ takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed by pure miracle to get out this Thanksgiving chapter super-last minute before the end of Thanksgiving weekend. Do I get a gold star?
> 
> My endless gratitude as always to the one and only [YellowLaboratory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowLaboratory/pseuds/YellowLaboratory) for beta-ing this (and for doubling as my therapist)

Kiara comes back from School one afternoon to find Pope hanging awkwardly down the steps of her porch, waiting for her.

“Hi!” she greets him, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Kie.” Pope shuffles to his feet, coming down to meet her. “Good day at school? Time to hang out a minute?”

“Uh, sure. Want to come in?”

“Uhm… are your parents home?”

“Probably.” 

Pope bounces on his heels in a little awkward motion but doesn’t say anything. Kiara feels a sudden rush of affection for him. 

“Tell you what, let me just pop my head in and let them know I’m home. I’ll meet you out back, okay?”

It’s sad, really, that the Pogues feel so uncomfortable hanging at her house. But, Kiara also knows it’s really not on them. Her parents have rarely done much to make them feel welcome – not even when they were children, and definitely not now. Just thinking back to the incident at the Wreck a few weeks back, it’s really no mystery that Pope wouldn’t be thrilled to come face to face with her dad.

So she meets him out back, offers her tupperware of sliced apples to share, and they roll down towards the dock munching quietly.

“So, uhm, JJ got suspended,” Pope says.

It hits her like a bucket of cold water, and she whips her head back to look him in the eyes. 

“What?! Why?”

Pope leans his elbows over the railing, looking out to the flicker of the lighthouse in the distance. “He, like, got into a brawl at lunch, yesterday.”

She can’t really make out his expression, in the settling dusk, but still she squints at him, trying to figure him out.

“A brawl?” she asks, “With who?”

“Just some random Seniors, I don’t even know. It’s just–” He turns to look at her, bites down his bottom lip to catch his next sentence before it rolls out. “He looks a bit rough, y’know. Just wanted to give you a heads up before you see him this weekend.”

“Oh my god.” She looks at him in dismay, then another thought occurs to her. “What about you, and John B? Are you guys okay? Did you get in trouble?”

She suddenly looks at him more carefully as if expecting contusions to pop up, but he flips to lean his back on the railing, waving at her dismissively.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” he says. “I didn’t actually know about it until after it happened. And JB wasn’t there, thank god, or that idiot would have gotten himself suspended too. And I mean, we really do not need to alert DCS any more than they already are, with his uncle gone more than he’s around, y’know.”

“Yeah, no. Fuck.” 

Kie runs her hands through her hair, and the silence is heavy between them. Pope’s right, and she can’t even bring herself to think of what could have happened. What still could happen. 

“Do you… do you know why, though?” she then asks, hesitant. “Like, what set him off?”

Pope shrugs, a tired look on his face. “Who knows, Kie. JJ’s just like that sometimes.”

Kie is quiet, mulling it over. She doesn’t get it, why anyone would do that – throwing themselves in a pit of lions like that. She thinks back of the night at the boneyard, the rage in JJ’s eyes as John B pulled him back from a suicide mission of a fight. 

“Does he pull this shit often, now?” she asks, and Pope just looks back at her, shakes his head with a shrug. 

“You know how JJ is. Sometimes he just… flips.”

But the thing is – she doesn’t know. Yes, JJ was always hot-headed, but picking up fights like this? Outnumbered, with older kids, as if he _ wanted _ to get his ass handed to him? That’s not what she remembers him being like. That’s not the boy who sat next to her on the porch, sharing a joint; who came to check on her by the shed when she stormed off in anger; who looked at her with gentle eyes and told her,  _ It’s okay. _

She takes a good look at Pope, his eyes trained towards the lit windows of her house, glistening in the growing darkness. He seems so exhausted. It’s starting to hit home how much things have changed while she was gone, and not just for the obvious reason of Big John going missing. 

She doesn’t like to think about it, but she can’t shake the feeling that something big is going on, something she can’t quite put her finger on.

* * *

JJ does look a little rough when she next sees him on Friday at the Chateau. He squirms away as she fusses over his double black eye and scolds him for being an idiot. 

“Jesus Christ, JJ. Did they deck you in the nose or something?” 

She twists his face around to get a better look, and JJ bats her hand away.

“You should see the other guy,” he tells her, cockily.

“Oh, I’m sure. Which one of them, again?”

John B jumps in at the chance to nickname JJ “Mr. Panda” and makes relentless fun of him for starting a one-man attack on the whole Senior class of Kilder County High School. JJ tells him to fuck off in increasingly colourful ways – but he’s actually biting down a smile at the corner of his mouth. Kie eventually stops fussing once she realises he’s latching on to JB’s teasing because he’s actually uncomfortable with the attention.

Overall, though, things are pretty good. Later in the night they light a bonfire in the yard. They eat s’mores and drink hot chocolate, wrapped up in blankets to fend off the cold. They don’t even spike their drinks, just pass around a joint in a circle, and the atmosphere is that perfect kind of chill that makes you ache for it when it’s gone.

The next morning, John B wakes up in a bit of a mood. He practically hisses at JJ when he makes a joke about getting up on the wrong side of the bed, and after that they all sort of walk on eggshells around him, letting him brood. Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and it’s going to be John B’s first holiday since his dad disappeared, so things are a bit rough. 

Kie gathers that Uncle T will be home for Thanksgiving day, but then apparently he’s leaving again the next day for a three-day stint on a construction site in Bayboro that is offering holiday pay. That’s just what life is like now, it seems, a constant revolving door. Ted means well, Kiara is sure of it, but it only takes one vague glance at John B to realise he’s struggling with the constant abandonment. For all the brave face he puts on, for all that he’s 16 and capable of taking care of himself, and possibly even enjoying the freedom a little bit – it’s just plain as day that he’s not happy to be constantly left behind.

So, yeah, things are kind of rough. It goes unsaid that the Pogues will spend as much of the weekend together as possible, and in fact they all start making plans for a “Friendsgiving” in hopes to lighten John B’s mood, just a little. Kie and Pope and, surprisingly, even JJ all have family obligations on actual Thanksgiving day that it’d be hard to get out of, but from Friday on Kiara is planning to move into the Chateau for the weekend.

They’re still almost a full week away from that though, and John B needs cheering up. So, they load their surfboards on the old VW van that JB definitely doesn’t have a legal licence to drive, yet, and head off to Rixon’s to catch some waves. Despite the biting cold, Kie’s the only one wearing a wetsuit, and she spares a suspicious glance at their bare limbs. She feels vindicated as the boys yell screeching swears at first impact with the freezing ocean, but in a few moments they’re gone, paddling out into the distance and then surfing back, one with the water. 

Kie tries to keep up their pace, her heartbeat racing in her chest. She’s so out of shape it’s not even funny. She used to be able to keep up with the boys no problem but then… She’s hardly surfed at all, in the past year (and  _ god _ she’s missed it. So, so much). Sarah wasn’t into it – which shouldn’t have been an excuse, really. Kie had never had a problem heading out on the water by herself, before. But Sarah had this weird gravitational pull about her, and Kiara ended up sucked right in. 

She sits out on her board, past the break, to catch her breath. The voices of the boys calling out at each other carry through the wind, and she takes a minute to savour this moment – the cold water splashing at her side, the smell of seasalt in the air, the grey sky above her. Sometimes, she wonders why on earth she ever gave up on this. She’s barely done anything without Sarah, in the months of their friendship, anything that Sarah would not approve of. Looking back, she hardly recognises herself in the person she used to be last year.

The boys call out to her, shaking her out of her reminiscing. She steadies herself, then, hops on the board and gets paddling towards shore. The waves are waiting for her, and it’s time to go catch some.

It’s a couple of hours before they’re ready to get back, fingers and toes by now insensitive for the cold but they don’t care. They’re full of adrenaline from being smacked down by the fury of the ocean one too many times, and Kiara doesn’t even register her exhaustion until after a warm shower in the murky bathroom of the Chateau. 

They all reconvene around the kitchen table, cosy in their warm hoodies and hair still wet from the shower. Kiara will have to leave soon – she has an early shift at the Wreck tomorrow morning, plus she’s still working on her parents for the whole Thanksgiving weekend plans debacle, and she has a feeling showing her face at home will help.

They’re all ravenous from all the activity, and the boys are depleting the cupboards of anything edible. As she spreads mayo on two slices of white bread she enlists Pope to start making some plans for next week in terms of food and preparation. She knows any shopping and cooking for Friendsgiving will have to fall on the two of them, as John B and JJ are totally useless. She and Pope munch over their sandwiches and go over what’s needed, trying to get a rough estimate of what amount of leftovers they’d be able to round up from their respective families. John B volunteers himself and JJ for beer procurement, and JJ promises some of his cousin’s good stuff, so the day’s looking brighter already.

Before heading back home, she makes sure to leave some very specific instructions to John B and JJ on the required set-up, like clearing out space in the kitchen to make room for the fold-leaf table, which also needs to be brought back from storage in the shed and hopefully given a good clean. She bugs them for a good half hour with reminders to at least make sure there’s enough dishes clean for all of them to eat, as she’s not looking forward to having to dig them from the depth of the sink herself. She leaves a post-it note on the kitchen window, too, for good measure.

Not at all reassured by their promises, she eventually runs out of time and needs to go.

“See you boys on Friday!” she calls back from the car.

They’re waving back at her, but already laughing about something else she cannot hear.

She rounds the corner from the driveway onto the road, and they’re gone from her view.

* * *

Actual Thanksgiving is a bit of a drag. Kie’s parents are hosting this year, which is alway all levels of stressful since this is also the best week for business at the restaurant in the entire off-season. Holidays at the Carreras are never easy, in general. The two sides of her family rarely mix, due to all sorts of hang-ups that are literally older than she is. Kiara knows from vague, half-told stories that her Mom’s parents didn’t take it kindly when Anna came back from college with Mike in tow – with his culinary school diploma and big dreams, dark skin and not much of a balance in his bank account. Things are sort of okay now, and Kiara knows her grandparents love her unconditionally, but she also knows there are old tensions that at times resurface. 

Her maternal grandparents used to live in Kildare when she was little, in the house where her mom grew up, but they have since moved to Manteo to be closer to the mainland and to Mom’s sister, who relocated there after marrying. All of them are currently back in Kildare for the Holiday Weekend, as this year it’s Mom’s turn in the family rota. It’s not too bad, all things considered. Aunt Kiki and her husband Joe have two little girls, and it’s always fun to have children around to play with at dull family occasions. 

Kiara really likes her Aunt and family, and her cousins are adorable. She’s not too close with her grandparents, despite them living so near when she was a child, but she tries her best. Grandma is very invested in her school, and wants to know all about her “girlfriends”, and Kiara takes in the warning look her mother sends her and proceeds to ad-lib a concocted fantasy of imaginary sleepovers with the likes of Scarlet, Caroline and Olivia – names familiar enough Grandma will recognise them while hopefully not bothering to follow through with their families.

When Friday finally rolls around, she literally can’t wait to meet the boys.

Kie pulled all of her good graces with her parents to free herself from family obligations for Friendsgiving, but not even her best negotiating skills could have let her get away from the annual Black Friday conundrum. Her father – wise man – snuck out at the crack of dawn to go hide at the Wreck with the vague excuse of work. Her mother, in the meanwhile, hauled her out of bed at an unreasonably early hour to drag her to the mainland for the obligatory seasonal consumerism. 

She likes to complain about all of this – and in fact it is a bit ridiculous if you think of it too hard – but to be fair, Kiara quite enjoys the trip. Not so much the shopping bit – it is, after all, a ridiculous tradition designed to trick the average American into overspending – but it’s something she and her mom have done as long as she can remember. A family tradition. Aunt Kiki stayed back with the girls, too young for the Black Friday craziness, so it’s just her, Mom, and Grandma. After the shopping they always go out for Brunch, and her mom enthusiastically agrees to try out a new vegan cafe that Kiara suggested. The food is delicious, and they have a good time. All in all, it’s a good day.

It’s almost three o’clock when she finally pulls up at the Chateau – the backseat of her car packed full of leftovers, plus an entire untouched pecan pie that she made with her dad specifically for the occasion. 

“Boys? I’m home!” she yells into the void, pushing the door open with her hip. “Any help, please? Food is heavy!”

There’s scrambling coming from the living room, then Pope’s onto her in a second.

“Hey Kie!” he greets her, holding out his arms to take the load from her.

“Hi, Pope. There’s more in the car, do you mind?”

“I’m on it!” 

She wades through the kitchen and dumps her bags on the counter with a grateful sigh. She can hear JJ and John B’s muffled voices coming from the porch, caught up in some kind of animated discussion. She rolls her eyes, biting down a smile, and she starts sorting through her bottles of soda and jars of leftovers, arranging them in some semblance of order.

There’s the familiar screeching noise coming from the back door, followed by stomping sounds on the crooked floorboards of the living room, and John B’s cackling laugh fills the room, bouncing around the walls.

“Happy friendsgiving!” he says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

She turns on herself to face him and pulls him into a proper hug. “Hey! You too!” 

The front door slams, too, and Pope reappears – balancing three pie trays on top of each other with impressive effort. 

“Hey Kie, where should I put these?”

She pulls back from John B, points towards the rest of her stuff. “Just drop them on the table,” she says, “I’ll sort them out, no worries. The pasta bake needs reheating–”

“Good lord, did you just rob a restaurant or something?” JJ’s voice comes from the doorway, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She whips her head around towards him, a smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I know, I went a little bit overboard…”

JJ’s leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his usual crooked smile and a cheeky look in his eyes.

The words suddenly die in her throat as she gets a good look at him, at the dark bruises almost completely covering the left side of his face. His eyebrow is clearly split, too, a dark scab cutting across. 

Kiara’s smile immediately drops from her face, her heart falling straight down through her chest.

“Jesus, JJ. The hell happened to you this time?”

Somebody has to say  _ something _ to him at some point, this is getting ridiculous. Fuck’s sake. He hasn’t even completely healed from his last fistfight yet, the yellowing bruises still visible under his eyes in sharp contrast to the new shiner. How did he even find someone to pick up a fight with on a national holiday is beyond her, but unfortunately it sounds like typical JJ alright.

Except the room's gone quiet and nobody is boasting about beating some random Kook's ass. Kie stills as a reflex, picking up on the weird atmosphere. "What?"

Pope’s eyes are firmly on the ground, and she catches John B sending concerned glances JJ’s way.

Eventually JJ’s eyes flicker across the room before stopping firmly on hers, a forced smile on his face.

"Nothing, you know. Just Luke Maybank’s stellar parenting."

Well, that deflated her fast enough.

It’s a known fact among the Pogues that JJ’s dad is a total shitshow. JJ never talks about it, but there have been vague enough whispers over the years from John B, and a general understanding of why exactly JJ spends so many nights at the Chateau. 

But yeah, JJ never, ever talks about it. To have him make such an offhand comment, now, feels surreal. And heartbreaking. And strangely reassuring, judging by the way the boys have suddenly started breathing again. 

“What, can’t take in all this beauty, Kie?” JJ deflects, chewing on his busted lip. But it falls a bit flat.

Kiara forces herself to stop staring once she notices how he’s shuffling on his feet – almost imperceptibly, and yet so very clearly. 

“I– Uhm…”

She doesn’t know what to say. She is woefully unprepared for this, and quite embarrassed by her little blunder. Coming in at him like she did, Jesus. She shakes her head into the floor, her cheeks flustered, and a weird grip within her belly.

“Uhm, Kie… I left your car open. Do you maybe want to go lock it?” Pope then asks her, pulling her out of her mystery, and she could seriously kiss him right now.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, thanks, that’d be–”

She spares a quick last glance to the two other boys and then she’s fishing for the car keys in her coat pocket, grateful for the outing Pope’s given her. He holds the door open for her, and then falls in step behind her as she walks out. She grabs her phone and charger from where she left them on the front seat before locking the car with a click. 

She leans her back against the driver’s door, then, pushes her hair off her face.

“You okay?” Pope asks her, quiet.

She takes a deep, deep breath.

“Yeah, I… yeah.”

Pope wobbles slightly to come and lean against the car, next to her. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there. Waiting.

“So, uhm. This is normal, now?” she asks, tentatively. She still can’t wrap her head around what just happened. 

Pope tilts his head down slightly to take a better look at her. “I mean… I wouldn’t say  _ normal. _ ”

Kie looks up towards him, at a loss for words. Pope sighs, diverting his gaze.

“Okay, so, between you and me… you know, not that JJ says anything about it. But, like, Luke got worse, in the past few months. Meaner. Word gets round, in the Cut, you know. He’s just drunker than normal, and more often on drugs. And well.” He pauses, sends her an eloquent glance. Twists his lips slightly at the corner. “He’s been known to take it out on JJ,” he finishes – just to spell it out clearly for her.

“Fucking hell, Pope.”

He looks straight into her eyes, then, his face all scrunched into a downwards frown.

“Don’t mention it to him, okay? He wouldn’t appreciate us talking about him,” he says.

It’s a pang in her stomach, and it brings back unpleasant memories from their childhood, stuff that she didn’t quite understand at the time.

She looks at Pope, his big eyes filled with sadness and something else, a worry that mirrors her own. She feels like there are things she should be saying, things they should be doing, perhaps. But her mind is blank, and she feels so... helpless.

Pope bumps his shoulder into hers, lightly. He gives her a tentative, gentle smile.

Somehow, it’s just what she needs. She does feel a little better. A bit steadier on her feet. 

Eventually, when they walk back into the house, the boys have put on music and are arguing very loudly with each other while moving the drop leaf table into the living room. They haven’t dared touch her organised containers, she’s pleased to see, but she notices a suspicious dent in the chicken and rice dish from Mama Heyward that Pope brought round. 

And there’s  _ something _ in the whole scene that makes her heart swell. JJ and John B bent in half with laughter as they almost drop the table on each other’s feet, Pope warily assessing the food and then just shrugging and moving on to join them in the next room, the cheesy festive music blasting from the old stereo in the corner. The Chateau is bursting full with all that ever made it feel like home – the sounds of old friends who’ll always be there for each other, no matter what. Her favourite people in the whole world.

* * *

At around 9 o’clock, Heyward’s truck is honking outside, calling Pope to go home. Holiday weekend means business and he has an early shift at the store in the morning – and apparently his parents don’t trust him to make it if he stays over. Or maybe they just want to spend time with him, that’s also a possibility. 

The three of them who are left all but collapse on the couch. They all ate for most of the afternoon, and by the time they were done with dessert they sort of started another round of food, and still there are leftovers for days. Kiara admits she might have gone a little overboard, especially considering Pope was bringing food too, but she’s not exactly sorry at the prospect of the boys having the fridge stocked full of her neatly stacked glass containers. 

JJ’s rolled up a joint and they pass it in silence between them. They’ve reached that time of the year when it’s too cold to sit still on the porch at night, but John B doesn’t mind so they smoke inside – the window barely open to at least try and not turn the Chateau into a smokehouse.

It’s not much after that JJ pulls himself up from the couch, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and turns to look at them. 

"Right, I should probably be off, too."

Kie raises her eyes to him, alarmed. "Where are you going?" 

John B, too, has perked up next to her. JJ looks back at them with one of his practiced smirks plastered all over his face. 

"Home. You know, that place where I live." 

“What the hell?”

“JJ, man, really.”

“Fuck’s sake, JJ you can’t be serious!”

She’s gotten up to her feet, and in the back of her mind she registers that John B’s also stood up right behind her. JJ’s eyes flicker between the two of them. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, but that’s the only tell-tale sign – that stupid fake smile still propped up as his best defense.

“Look, guys, it’s fine, okay?” he deflects, “I just need to check in, make sure my old man hasn’t killed himself or something.”

Kiara folds her arms and sets her shoulders, her chin popping forward. “Are we really doing this, right now?” she asks, sardonic.

“Doing what, Kie?” he challenges her, more than a little exasperated.

“Are we just going to stand here and pretend that your dad–”

“Don’t. Just, don’t.”

She bites down her lip, looks over at John B for support. He meets her gaze briefly, lets out a sigh. “JJ, man, just… stay the night, please?”

JJ pinches the bridge of his nose and Kie could swear he actually  _ sighs _ at them.

“Look, guys, I appreciate the concern, okay? But really, I can handle myself.”

Kie scoffs, her mouth running before her brain can catch up. “Oh yeah, we can see that.”

The air freezes instantly around her. JJ takes a sharp inhale of breath, eyes closed shut. Bites down hard on his lip. He doesn’t say anything back at her, but his fists are twitching at his sides, and she feels a pang of guilt gripping her from within. She went too far, but she can’t take it back now.

JJ is kind of bouncing on his heels, looking properly uncomfortable. The silence is heavy around them, until he finally moves over to the door. He hovers around it for just a second, sends half a glance back at them. 

“See ya later,” he just says, and then he’s gone

Kiara’s eyes stay trained to the door long after JJ has left. Long after his figure has all but disappeared in the distance, swallowed in whole by the darkness of the night. She’s biting her fingernails raw, a sickening sense of dread pinching the pit of her stomach.

“This isn’t right, him going back,” she finally says. John B lets out a huff, shaking his head at her.

“It is what it is, Kie.”

“How can you say that?!” He practically recoils under her indignant stare, and still she doesn’t stop. “John B, his father  _ bashed  _ his face  _ in _ . How can you not be… mad?”

“Of course I’m mad!” he snaps. He holds back a little when she visibly flinches in response, a sniffle barely hidden with a shake of his head. “What do you want me to do, Kie? It’s not like I can change what his dad is like. JJ’s home is here as far as I’m concerned, and he knows that. If I could do more, trust me, I would. It does no good to anyone to just cry about it, least of all to JJ.”

Kiara lets herself fall on the pull-out couch, completely deflated. The worst part is that he‘s right, she knows it. 

“It’s so unfair, though.”

John B sighs, taking a seat at her side. Kiara angrily wipes out a disobedient tear, sliding down her cheek.

“I know,” he says, impossibly softly. He runs an arm around her and she lets her head fall on his shoulder. 

It’s still a new feeling, John B, her scrawny friend, being a solid shoulder to cry on, someone to lean on. They’re all growing so fast, lately, her boys. They all have these new, large bodies, ripped with lean muscles and electric energy. She used to be taller than John B, not so long ago, and now look at them. 

She snuggles deeper into his chest, eyes shut close against his sweater, letting his presence comfort her. There’s so many things she would like to say, so many thoughts she’s not quite sure how to articulate. All these painful reminders of the many ways in which the boys’ lives are harder than hers, more dangerous and scary. All the things she’s helpless to protect them from, no matter how fiercely she loves them. 

John B runs his hand up and down her arm, a grounding gesture. He clears his throat, asks her, “You good?”

Kiara pulls back from him, then. Blinks her repressed tears away. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just-”

She looks at him, and she can’t bring herself to continue. She doesn’t even really know where she was going with that.

But John B smiles a little sad smile, because he knows her. And because he understands. “Yeah. I know.”

And, well. Maybe, if the situation was different, she’d let herself cry her anger out. She’d lean into John B and let him wrap his arms around her and comfort her and reassure her. But she takes one good look at her friend – her probably orphaned, alone in the world, barely hanging by a thread friend – and she knows she can’t put her own feelings on him, too. So she backs away from him, just a little. Gives him a tentative smile.

“So, uhm, it’s getting late,” John B says, eyes on the floor and a hand coming up to scratch behind his neck. He glances over at her, eyes wide in the silence of the empty house. “What about you, Kie, you staying over?”

She’s suddenly overcome by this intense need to pull him into a hug and keep him there, forever. Instead, she slides down the back of the couch, burrowing deeper into the corner.

“Yeah, if that’s okay? Dad’s at the restaurant tomorrow, and my mom’s taking Grandma out. I successfully negotiated my day of freedom.” She smiles, and he matches in kind.

“Movie?”

“You got it.”

* * *

They’re halfway through a rewatch of  _ Back to the Future, _ in a low-quality VHS version that Big John recorded himself from the TV – most likely way before either of them were born. The backdoor suddenly screeches behind them, and JJ plops down on the couch next to John B.

“What did I miss?” he asks casually. 

“Not much.” John B sneaks him a look. “All good?”

JJ peels his eyes from the TV and glances at John B for the briefest second.

“Yeah, good.”

_ "Back to the Future _ marathon?”

“It’s on.”

“I’ll make pop-corn,” Kie volunteers. She pushes herself up from the couch and strides towards the kitchen. 

As she waits for the corn to pop she turns her back to the counter, looking over to the boys through the opening that connects to the main room. Both boys are staring intently at the old tv, the blue-ish hue reflecting in their eyes, on the dark bruise on JJ’s face. John B’s snuck an arm on the back of the couch, his hand clasping gently at the back of JJ’s neck. JJ leans back into the touch, shoulders relaxed, hands resting in his lap. There’s a little smile at the corner of both of their mouths, which turns into a chuckle at some movie joke she cannot hear from the kitchen. They both look calm, at ease. Happy, one may even say. She really shouldn’t be surprised by it by now, but Kiara doesn’t think she’ll ever cease to be amazed at how good to each other these boys are.

The microwave rings behind her, and Kie plops the content of the bag into a bowl before carrying it over to the living room. She resumes her spot in the corner of the couch, puts her legs across John B’s lap and passes the pop-corn around. They munch in silence, laughing at the old flick, throwing pop-corn at each other and making lame jokes that bounce around the flimsy walls of the Chateau.

They spend the rest of the night like that, piled on the pull-out, waiting for morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have recognised Scarlet, Caroline and Olivia from [PLTC](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172296/chapters/61001860); they make the quickest of quick cameos here with the blessing of their rightful creator.
> 
> All my love and gratitude to the [jiara gc](https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/gcshenanigans) for indulging me in my ramblings and for their endless support.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angsty but also fluffy (sort of) Holidays chapter. Also, many feelings are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo this chapter was in the making for so long that I've literally moved countries since I last posted, lol! It's pretty much double the length of my regular chapters, so hopefully that makes up for the wait.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to the wonderful and amazing [YellowLaboratory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowLaboratory/pseuds/YellowLaboratory) for all the time and energy she put into making this mess of a chapter into something coherent. Annie, I honestly appreciate you so much, your constant hype is everything.
> 
> If any part of this is even remotely funny it's probably thanks to the [jiara gc](https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/gcshenanigans) and I take no credit for it.

The following weeks till Christmas are a blur of school and work and festive spirit. 

Kiara would be perfectly happy to skip the Winter Formal at the Academy, but of course once her mom gets wind of it she vows to personally drive her there and back, so Kiara has to put on one of her stupid dresses that make her look like a wedding favour and stand in a corner of the badly decorated gym all night. 

She tries not to let her mind wander to last year. She and Sarah had sneaked some vodka into the party and got tipsy in the girls’ bathroom before letting loose on the dance floor. Everything had felt so bright, back then, so full of possibilities – this new friendship with Sarah and everything else. They’d had their own ritual all year, whenever there was a school event. Kiara would go get ready at Sarah’s, they’d make a whole afternoon of it, trying crazy makeup looks and swapping dresses and stealing drinks from Rose’s well-stocked liquor cabinet. After the party, Kiara would just stay over at Sarah’s – not back at Tanneyhill, the Camerons own a condo on the mainland two blocks away from school where they stay on most school nights. Her mom always sent her off with the brightest smiles, full of recommendations to ‘ _have fun,’_ and ‘ _thank the Camerons for their hospitality.’_

Now, standing in a corner of the gym alone, nursing her flute of hideous punch which is definitely not spiked enough for the occasion, surrounded by people who hate her, Kiara is just hit by the contrast. What her life could be like. How it all went down the drain, so quickly. 

In a way she has to give it to them: these Kooks know how to hold a grudge. Sarah’s party was months ago, and she would have imagined things would have died down by now. Clearly they haven’t – judging by the dirty looks the nearest group of kids is giving her. Kiara rolls her eyes at their murderous silent glares, moves to the back of the gym, and leans her back against the wall.

The music blasting around her is a bland, generic poppy sound with no personality, much like the frocks of people filling up the room – all dressed up in tailored outfits that probably cost them more than a month’s rent on the Cut.

Kiara flicks her phone out of her purse, bored beyond belief, types quickly into the Pogues group chat, just for something to do.

**_Kie <3 [19:36]_ **

_This kooky thing is even kookier than expected_

JJ responds instantly with a picture of Pikachu’s shocked face. It makes her chuckle under her breath.

So what, if this stupid school party is lame, and boring, and nobody here wants to talk to her – or even acknowledge her existence. It’s Friday night. In a few hours she’ll be home, tucked in her bed; tomorrow she’ll pop in at Heyward’s while Pope’s on shift, and they’ll wait for JJ to be done at the hotel and John B at the marina. Then they’ll head back to the Chateau together, wait for Ted to come back with pizzas or Chinese or whatever takeout is this weekend’s favourite. They’ll play scrabble, or maybe watch a movie. They’ll eat pop-corn and drink beer and collapse on the pullout.

The funny thing is, all these preppy kids around her think they’re punishing her by excluding her from all of this – the parties, the friendships, the casual chats in the corridors. But in truth, the paper house had to fall for Kiara to realise what really matters. Who her true friends are, and always have been.

And the thing is, she wouldn’t go back for anything in the world.

* * *

When Christmas break finally starts, Kiara is ready for it. It’s Saturday morning, less than a week to go until Christmas, and Kiara leaves home with some vague info on her whereabouts for the day yelled over her shoulder into the foyer, car keys in hand. 

The day is crisp as she drives through town and into the Cut , sunny and cold. Cheesy festive music is blaring from the radio and she doesn’t even mind.

The bliss comes to a halt as Kie pulls up in front of the Chateau. She’s barely locked her car when John B storms off outside, the front door slamming angrily behind him. He has a murderous look on as he focuses on her for the briefest second, then stalks away without a word. 

The door swings on its hinges again, and JJ follows outside.

“John B!”

“JJ, what-”

“Not now, Kie.”

He spares her all but a dismissive glance, barely pausing on her at all, and he’s already running after John B. Kie feels stunned for a moment, but then shakes herself out of it, climbs up the steps and gets inside.

Uncle T is leaning against the kitchen counter, hands clasped tight around the edge, shoulders tense. Pope is sitting at the table in the corner, his head in his hands. He nods at her briefly as she enters, doesn’t make any other sound. 

“Hi… Sorry, is this a bad time?”

Ted turns around slowly, a tired hand running over his face.

“Kiara, hi. No worries, I’m about to head out anyway. Make yourself at home.”

He attempts a smile, but it doesn’t look too sincere. He taps his fingers on the counter in a flinching motion, then quickly walks out to his bedroom. 

Pope gets up from his chair, nods towards the back door, and she silently follows him out on the porch.

“Did you see JJ? Did he tell you what happened?” he asks once they’re both outside.

“No, Pope, nobody told me anything. What’s going on?”

Pope leans his back against the porch screens, his chest raising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “T wants to declare Big John dead.”

Kiara’s heart falls right to the floor.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ ” Pope scrunches up his face, eyes low on the ground. “As you can imagine, that didn’t go down very well.”

Kie joins Pope leaning against the porch screens. Her legs can barely support her, like the old wooden deck is crumbling into dust underneath her.

“What… what happened, then?”

Pope sighs, a hand running down her face. “Some yelling. Lots of accusations. John B stormed off in anger, and JJ left to run after him, like you’ve seen.”

“No, I mean… with Big John. Why now?”

Pope glances over at her briefly, his eyes quickly darting away again.

“It’s been three months, Kie.”

Kiara feels a cold shiver run through her spine, chilling her to the bone. 

“So, this is it, then? Everyone’s given up?”

Pope is looking at her kindly. “Look, Kie-”

“No, stop! John B thinks he’s still out there, and-”

“Well, John B is a little in denial, if you haven’t noticed,” he snaps at her, exasperated. It shuts her right up for a second, she stares at him with wide eyes as she finds her bearings again.

“So what, you don’t believe him?” she questions him. 

Pope shakes his head lightly, lips in a tight line. “Let’s just not go there, okay?”

“Go where, Pope? We’re his friends! He needs us to support him, and, I don’t know, _believe_ him, at the very least!”

“You know what he _actually_ needs, Kie?” Pope pushes off from the railing and stands in front of her, looking down into her eyes. “A guardian. Someone who can take care of him,” he continues. “Do you think I love this? What, that I couldn’t _wait_ for the paperwork to be filed? Of course not! But if this makes it easier for Ted to stick around, then so be it. What difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference!” Kiara yells back. She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. “This isn’t just about making Ted’s life easier, or John B’s for that matter. This is declaring Big John _dead._ Giving up on him. That matters to John B! That should matter to all of us!”

Pope scoffs, shaking his head at her. “You’re one to talk.”

His voice is sharp, angry, and she’s taken aback. “What does that even mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No Pope, enlighten me. If you have a problem with me–”

“You weren’t even here!” The words feel like a slap to the face and Kiara’s so stunned she can’t breathe for a second. “You fucked off, for _months._ Do you even have a clue what was going on here? Do you even care?” 

She’s gaping at him like the world’s silliest fish. She hates feeling so cornered, out of breath and vulnerable, on the verge of tears. She won’t cry in front of him, she _won’t_. She blinks a few times, biting down the inside of her cheek to stop the tears from coming. Juts her chin out, defiant.

“I can’t exactly change what already happened, can I? But I’m here now.”

Pope snorts. “Well, that’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?” he says, dripping with resentment. 

“Then what the hell do you want me to do, Pope?”

“Nothing. You know what, fine. Just don’t come here acting all superior because frankly, Kiara, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Kie narrows her eyes at him. Anger’s building up inside her – or maybe it’s guilt, she doesn’t even know. It consumes her, burning her from within, and it hurts so bad. 

She spares him one last glance, seething.

“Go to hell, Pope.” 

And she leaves.

* * *

Jorge, the Wreck’s manager, doesn’t make a comment when Kie walks in and puts her apron on – despite not being on the schedule today. Maybe it’s the privilege of being the owners’ daughter, but it’s also possible that he took a good look at her deranged glare and decided it was not worth fighting her on this. He hands her a notepad in silence, and nods at the far corner of the dining hall. “Table seven. May’s on break.”

“On it.”

She grabs a pen from the counter and is on her way.

It’s not a mad rush or anything, but it’s Saturday and school’s out for winter break. It’s enough to keep her busy, her mind occupied with orders of fries and shrimp and grits. It’s almost enough to quiet her anger at Pope’s words, to make her forget their fight. Almost.

It’s hours later and the heat of the kitchen is suffocating. She grabs an iced tea from the fridge, yells “Taking five!” over her shoulder and steps outside for a break.

JJ is there, because of course he is. Leaning on his dirt bike and smoking from a juul at the edge of the parking lot. Kiara sighs, her arms crossing in front of her. She leans back against the railing. Doesn’t move towards him.

“What are you doing here?”

JJ stalks over to her, but stops short before climbing the steps of the back porch. “Oh, y’know. Finished some work at the marina. Thought I’d stop by since I was in the neighbourhood.” 

He nods over his shoulder, towards the water. She rolls her eyes, but falls in step behind him.

They walk round the Wreck and climb down the jetty. JJ leans his elbows on the railing, looking out, but Kiara stays back, arms crossed in front of her. JJ offers her his juul, she shakes her head. He shrugs and takes another puff.

“So what, did they send you as the peace emissary or something?” she asks, all rough around the edges.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

She bites her tongue down, doesn’t say what she actually wants to say. “How’s John B?” she asks, instead.

JJ works his lip between his teeth, takes another puff from his juul. Doesn’t look at her.

“He’s, you know. A bit pissed.”

That does the trick, her shoulders slump down, and she moves to lean over the edge, close to him.

“Yeah. I can imagine. I mean, he looked like he could murder someone, so.”

JJ turns to look at her, gives her a half-hearted smile. Bumps his shoulder with hers.

“Hey. Don’t worry about him, okay? He’ll be fine. He always is.” He stares at her pointedly, then averts his gaze, still smiling. “You, however…”

“What do you mean?”

He takes another puff from his juul, blows the smoke out into the night. Trains his eyes back towards her.

“I know what happened, with Pope. He told us.”

She scoffs. “No kidding.”

JJ shuffles a little on his feet. Plays with the rings on his fingers. “Are you coming back?” he asks, casually.

Kiara exhales slowly, shakes her head slightly. “Well, _someone_ clearly doesn’t want me there.”

“Come on Kie, of course we do. Pope too. He doesn’t have a problem with you.”

“Kind of seemed like that, when he told me I can’t talk since I abandoned you.”

The words are sharp, they cut through her throat. Because the thing is, a part of her knows she deserves it. And she’s so afraid he’ll agree with him, that bringing up what’s so far gone unsaid will be the proverbial last straw, make them all realise they made a mistake letting her back in. So she holds her ground, on the attack, readying herself for battle.

JJ doesn’t take her bait, though. His face is soft, his eyes gentle as he looks straight at her.

“He shouldn’t have said that.”

She knows he’s trying to make her feel better, and yet his words hit a raw spot, make her irrationally angry.

“Why? It’s true,” she challenges him. “I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, and it sucked!” She almost chokes on her breath, stuck in her throat. JJ gives her a little shrug, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “And yeah, not gonna lie, some shit went down when you were gone. For John B, for the rest of us, even for you, I’m sure. What’s the point of dwelling on that now?”

Why can she not say anything back? Words don’t come to her mouth and she just stands there, helpless, her eyes filling up. JJ glances back at her and his face falls, eyes wide. 

“Kie, come on.”

She jerks her head away from him, wiping her tears angrily with her hands. JJ’s arm twitches towards her in an aborted move, but then he changes his mind. He leans back against the railing, giving her space. They stand there, four feet apart, in perfect silence, until Kiara shivers so hard in the cold of the night that her teeth clatter together. JJ shifts next to her, and when she turns to look at him he’s wordlessly taken his jacket off and is putting it on her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she mutters. He simply shrugs in response.

She closes her eyes, wraps his coat tight around herself. It’s warm, and it smells of him. When she opens her eyes again he’s moved closer to her. His elbows leaning against the railing, he’s looking out across the channel. 

“I should probably get back inside,” she says, and he shoots her a look from underneath his blond bangs. His hair’s grown so long that it falls in his eyes, sun-bleached strands from the past summer stark against his darker roots. 

“What time are you off?” he asks her.

“Not for another hour.”

He nods, serious. “Will you please come back to the Chateau when you’re done? I can hang around till then if you need a ride.”

“Not tonight, JJ.”

He gives her an exasperated look, eyebrows raised. He looks like he wants to say something, but then he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he agrees. He shuffles on his feet, hands deep in his pockets, bottom lip twisted between his teeth. His eyes switch rapidly from the ground to the water to somewhere just left of her shoulder before he adds, “You promise you’ll come by tomorrow, though?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, not answering, and it’s her turn to avert her gaze this time.

“Kie, please.”

She takes a deep breath, turns back towards him. His eyes glisten in the moonlight, so big on his pale face. The quiet sound of the water fills her ears, tuning out the noise coming from the restaurant.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. I’ll be there.” He’s still looking at her, unmoving, so she forces a smile out. “I promise. Okay?”

He relaxes visibly at that. Nods back at her. 

They walk back to the Wreck, and once they reach his bike Kiara slips out of his jacket and hands it back to him. She feels oddly reluctant to let go of it – which is silly, really. It’s _his_ jacket, after all. She can’t exactly send him off without it.

JJ reaches out to take it, puts it back on. Gives her a quiet smile, then mounts on his bike. 

“See you tomorrow. Okay?” she says. He just nods back.

“Goodnight, Kie.”

The engine of his bike rumbles in her ears as she climbs up the steps into the Wreck’s kitchen. She turns around to wave at him as he leaves, catches a glimpse of his dirt bike turning onto the road.

* * *

She’s at the Wreck early the next morning. She rarely has two full shifts back-to-back in a weekend but yesterday she wasn’t exactly scheduled to work, so now she’s opening even though she was here till eight last night. 

It’s less than an hour into her shift when Pope walks in. He stalls awkwardly by the entrance, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to approach him. Which she pointedly doesn’t. 

He finally gets the memo, and comes up to her.

“Can we talk?”

She walks past him, dumps a rag on the nearest table and starts wiping it vigorously. “I’m busy, Pope.”

She isn’t, not really. It’s the beginning of Christmas Break so Tourons are frocking in, although nowhere near the levels of the Summer season. It’s still early, though, and the Wreck is hardly packed. Pope gestures behind her, pointing at the only two tables currently being occupied. He raises an eyebrow at her, slumps his shoulders a little.

“Come on, Kie. Won’t take long.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but moves to the back to retrieve her jacket.

“Taking five!” she calls over her shoulder towards the kitchen, and then nods to Pope towards the doors.

They walk outside, but don’t leave the deck. In the Summer, this area is packed with tables, but right now it’s empty, slightly damp with morning dew. Kie leans her back against the railing, folds her arms in front of her.

“So. You wanted to talk?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Pope blurts out. She raises her eyebrows at him and he backpedals a little. “I’m sorry. About what I said yesterday. I shouldn’t have.”

Kiara takes a deep breath, gives herself a moment. Swallows her pride.

“Yeah, okay.” She thinks back to yesterday, the things that were said. The way she left. She shifts her weight over one hip, unfolds her arms. “I’m sorry, too.”

The relief is palpable as Pope huffs out the breath he was holding.

“Okay. Okay, good. Are we good?”

Kiara’s lips twist at the corner, a tiny smile. The sting of his words is still there, the way he played right into her guilt and insecurity. But at the end of the day, it’s her fault more than his. And she really, really doesn’t want to lose him again. So she bumps her shoulder with his, gives him a look.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Back at John B’s?”

Pope flashes her a grin. Waves at her as she runs back inside, just in time for the Sunday Brunch crowd.

She waves back at him over her shoulder as he starts walking back towards the store.

Her shift’s up at midday. She grabs a sandwich from the Wreck’s kitchen and heads home for a quick shower before driving straight to the Chateau for the afternoon. 

She finds the boys sitting on the couch, sharing a bag of generic-brand doritos as they watch TV. She plops in between Pope and JJ without a word, wiggling her hips to wedge herself between them. JJ tilts his head and they share a quick glance. She smiles at him, he winks back. After a split second hesitation, Kie rests her head on Pope’s shoulder and stays there. 

Things are fine.

* * *

“Hey, uhm. You good, John B?”

It’s hours later. Pope and JJ have left, Ted is out doing some kind of job for Scooter Grubbs and has not come back yet, and Kie and John B are washing up dishes from dinner. John B sends her a quick glance over the soapy water he’s elbow-deep in.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Why?”

“You know, just– everything’s been a little crazy, lately.”

She notices the set of his shoulders, and she knows without asking that he’s picked up on where she’s going. She stacks the last plate with the rest in the cupboard, puts down the drying rag on the counter and turns to face him.

He takes a deep breath, doesn’t look at her. Turns off the water, slowly takes the rubber gloves off his hands. He looks tense, his knuckles turning white from his grip over the edge of the counter, like he's trying to use it to anchor him. 

“Sheriff Peterkin came up here, you knew that?" he finally says. "She came here with her fake condolences and fake apologies, and a stack of forms to sign.”

Kiara reaches out a hand towards him, like an instinct. She hesitates mid-movement, ends up awkwardly pulling her hand back.

“I know it sucks, this whole thing,” she says, gentle. “But, JB, it doesn’t mean that your dad is not still out there.” John B pulls back from the counter, a tense set to his shoulder. He gives her a look, eyebrows raised, but she perseveres. “It doesn’t!”

“Everyone’s given up on him, Kie. Everyone. Nobody is looking for him anymore. And I get it, okay? I get it. But Uncle T…”

He cuts himself abruptly, choking on his words, and Kiara swallows a lump in her throat. She can see how hard this is for him, Uncle T giving up on Big John. It’s not the same as when the rest of the islanders did it, or even the Sheriff’s department – that he can deal with. But this, this is family. It must feel like such a low blow. 

She leans back against the table, bites her tongue. She needs to be gentle, tread these waters carefully if she doesn’t want to hurt him.

"I'm sure you uncle is just doing the best he can,” she tries. 

John B snaps his head back at her, looking her square in the eyes. “And how does declaring my dad dead help, at all?" 

"I don't know, John B. He might need to do it to square things up with DCS, I don’t know." 

John B huffs out a humourless laugh, and Kie doesn’t know what to do. Truth is, she doesn't know why there's any rush to take this step, why Ted is moving forward with it so quickly. But she knows Ted, and she can’t believe he’d be doing this if it wasn’t necessary.

“I know you’re mad at your uncle, JB.”

John B shakes his head, his eyes a little glassy.

“That’s the thing, I’m not even mad. Just… empty. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Kiara takes one of his hands in hers. Moves a little closer to him. John B looks her in the eyes with determination almost bordering on defiance.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I haven’t given up yet. I’ve not signed any papers, and I won’t.”

“But what about–”

“I don’t care. Uncle T can do what he wants, I don’t care.”

Kiara bites down her lip, tries to choose her words carefully. “He’s just trying to look out for you. You know that, right?”

John B scoffs, but there’s no real bite. Ted is possibly the only family he has left, and it kills Kiara to think they might be falling out. But they’ll be alright. At least, she hopes.

“Just a fucking great Christmas present, isn’t it?”

He does have a point. Christmas is only days away. If anything, Ted could have gotten the timing a little better.

“Hey.” She opens her arms, takes a step towards him. “Come here.”

John B complies, snakes his arms around her back. “What’s this for?”

“I don’t know, you just looked like you needed a hug.” She ruffles his hair, pulls back to give him a smile. He sighs deeply, leaning into her touch a moment longer before stepping back.

He shuffles on his feet for a moment, sends her a sheepish look. Rubs the back of his neck with his hand. She feels it might be time to change the topic, pull him out of his misery, but he ends up beating her to it.

“So, uhm, what’s your plan for the holidays?” he asks, clearing his throat. “We’re doing Christmas Eve here, if you want to join. The Heywards might come, too. You could even bring your folks?”

Kiara almost scoffs at the idea. Her parents, at a party at the Chateau. Her stomach then tightens a little, though – this is so not the time to give John B any more bad news.

“Unfortunately, I can’t. We’re going down to Charleston at my grandma’s,” she says with a tentative smile.

“Oh, shoot. When do you leave?”

“We’re setting off early the day after tomorrow. Back here on the 27th.”

John B nods, doesn’t say anything.

And the thing is, Kiara loves her Nana very much. She always enjoys holidays with her dad’s side of the family the best, and she’s looking forward to the trip to Charleston. And yet the idea of missing out on the Pogues’ Christmas is digging a hole inside her.

“Hey,” she says, bumping her shoulder with John B’s. He raises his eyes to look at her, vaguely questioning. “I’ll be back, though. We’ll still have a full week of break to get up to all sorts of trouble. I know what you guys are concocting for New Year’s, okay?”

That finally pulls a smile out of John B, and Kie lets herself take a sigh of relief.

“It’s gonna be epic, I’m telling you,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “This whole past year pretty much sucked, but the new one will start with a bang.” _Literally,_ if JJ can get his hands on his cousins’ supply of fireworks.

Kiara leans back on the counter, looking softly at him.

“Hey, what about I come around tomorrow night, before I leave,” she asks. “Would you guys be here?”

John B shrugs, noncommittally. “Probably.”

“Okay, could we maybe make it a sure thing? I know you boys have a pathological aversion to making plans but gee, at least appreciate my effort. I’ll come bearing presents!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I think it can be arranged,” he says, a wide smile on his face. Kie returns it in kind.

“Okay. Good.”

And so they do.

* * *

The Pogues don’t really do presents, never have. So the next day, when she gets out of her car for their pre-Christmas Eve’s Eve get-together, she’s holding four bags of gingerbread cookies – one for Ted, too – homemade with her mom that very afternoon and still warm from the oven. The boys’ paper bags are tied close with a new string bracelet she made for each of them. Navy and white for John B, dark green and purple for Pope, red and yellow for JJ. Ted’s cookies instead come with a bottle of fancy artisanal beer from her parents on the side, a thank you for letting her stay over so often.

“Wow! Thanks, kid,” Ted says with a quiet smile, turning the bottle in his hands to check the label. “Say thanks to your folks, too.”

Ted has bought some spiced apple juice from the shop and he’s warming it up on the stove, and the whole shack smells like Christmas. Kiara smiles wide back at him.

“You’re welcome.”

She and the boys move onto the next room and settle around the coffee table, some Christmas movie playing on the TV in the background as they set up a game of Uno. Ted joins them shortly, distributing steaming mugs of apple juice and dropping a bowl of candy in front of them before settling in the beat-up armchair in the corner.

She’s the first one to close, and she moves back on the couch with a smug look on her face. Pope follows soon after, leaving the other two idiots to their extremely heated head-to-head. 

(JJ wins the final hand. John B insists he’s been cheating. _“How do you even cheat at Uno?”_ )

She’s not really expecting anything from the boys, so when Pope drops a little square package in her lap she turns to him with a questioning look.

“For me?”

Pope nods sheepishly, a hand coming up to his shoulder. “Yeah.”

She smiles wide. “Wow, thanks!”

She carefully unwraps the present and a wooden frame appears – one of those they sell at the tourist shops in town, painted with the colours of the ocean, a few seashells glued in a corner. It’s not the frame though, it’s what’s inside: a picture of the four of them, the summer after middle school. They’re on the HMS Pogue, just outside the Chateau. They’re all hugging, smiling wide for the camera. She’s pretty sure Big John took it. Her heart aches and she can’t speak for a moment. 

She turns to look at Pope, a little choked up. The meaning isn't lost on her, after their fight only a few days ago.

“Pope.”

“You like it?”

Instead of answering she wraps her arms tight around his neck, head leaning close to his. She blinks a few times, determined not to cry like an idiot. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Hey, where is our hug?” JJ asks.

Kie pulls back slightly from Pope, opens her arms as an invitation. “Come on in!”

JJ sends her a diabolic grin before diving head first onto the couch, falling flat on her and Pope.

“JJ, my god!”

John B gets up from his corner of the couch and lands on top of him, effectively burying Kiara under a pile of limbs. 

“Guys!” Pope yells, and then proceeds to tickle anything he can reach. JJ squeaks and tries to squirm away, unsuccessfully as John B is holding him still.

“Boys, boys, I can’t breathe!”

She’s not sure if it’s their weight that’s pressing on her lungs, or just that she’s laughing so hard. By the time they all retreat and settle in a pile at her sides, she has genuine tears in her eyes from all the laughter.

“Merry Christmas, boys.”

John B lays his head on her shoulder, snuggling at her side. “Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Christmas is not particularly eventful. Nana’s house in Charleston is not very big, so she stays at her cousins’ two blocks down while her parents take the single guest room. She always enjoys seeing her dad in his “natural habitat”, as he likes to call it. His shoulders relaxed as he sips a beer on the couch, has a laugh with his sister and brother in law. Mom is also quite chill when they’re here, none of the high society nonsense that keeps her so wound up back home. It’s like getting a glimpse of what she would have been like when she was in college, when she and Dad were first dating and she would have come here to meet Nana and the family.

Dad successfully convinces his mother to let him and Kiara help in the kitchen (“You know, your son who owns a restaurant? And his daughter, who also works in said restaurant?”) so Christmas Eve is spent preparing the feast. They have a big dinner on the 24th, just the immediate family, and a brunchy lunch on Christmas day which is more relaxed, a number of Dad’s cousins also showing up, coming and going. There’s presents and good food and time with family, and overall it’s a nice Christmas. Kie enjoys the extra time with her cousins, and she even squeezes in an afternoon in town with her mom, basking in the hustle and bustle of a city that has much more to offer than good old Kildare.

By the time they all pile up in her dad’s car, early in the morning on the 27th, Kiara is ready to go home.

It’s a long drive, even after factoring in a decent nap and a stop for food halfway through. By the time they get to the ferry terminal on the mainland Kiara is practically bursting at the seams. She asks her parents to drop her at the Chateau without even stopping home first, and she sees them exchange a quick look, but then they comply. 

“Boys?”

“Outside!”

The Chateau is empty, but there’s loud voices coming from the porch. She steps out the back door and finds them all there, big smiles on their faces. They’ve moved the green sofa from around the corner to bring enough seats together. They’re all wrapped up in blankets, steaming mugs in their hands.

“Hot chocolate?” Uncle T asks her with an easy smile. He gets up from his chair without waiting for an answer, takes his blanket with him and wraps it around her shoulders. “Take a seat. Coming right up.”

“Thanks, Ted.”

She sits down on the empty spot on the green couch, next to Pope. John B leans over from across the porch. “So. How was Charleston?”

JJ is sprawled next to him, his head reclined on the backrest and a dopey smile on his face. 

“You know. Uneventful.”

Ted comes back with a mug for her and a can of whipped cream. He sits back down in his chair, lights his pipe and leans back. The night is quiet, everything’s still in the winter – even the marsh, it seems.

And maybe it’s all the hours in the car, the exhaustion from the trip. Maybe the warm chocolate, or the sweet smell of Ted’s tobacco. Kiara feels almost hazy, like in a dream.

She pulls her legs up on the couch, wraps her arms around her knees under the blanket. 

“It’s good to be back home.” 

* * *

Ted is spending New Years with some old friends up at North Point, leaving the Chateau to them for the night. For once, she’s the first to arrive – Pope’s with his family and JJ’s got a shift at the hotel until eight. The party won’t start until nine, but she figured she’d come round earlier to help set up. She drops the bags of snacks and the tray of mac’n’cheese on the side, ready to be reheated, and comes to take a seat next to John B on the couch to play Mario Kart on the ancient console.

“You know who’s coming in the end?” she asks, and John B shrugs in response.

The boys pretty much have an open invitation policy for the kids of the Cut, but Michael Redfield is also throwing a party, and he’s a senior and mildly popular, so really it’s a toss of the coin who’ll show up tonight.

“Relax, Kie,” he says, eyes fixed on the game. “Who wants to show up will show up. No big deal.”

“I was just trying to check if we have enough cups and plates for everyone, you dumbass.”

“I asked Pope to bring more from the store.” He pauses to send her a look, a cheeky grin on his face. She has to admit she’s mildly impressed by the foresight. “Like I said. Relax. It’s a party, Kie.”

And in the end, he’s right.

Pope arrives at quarter to nine with a stack of supplies from the store, and people start filing in shortly after. JJ doesn’t show up until a good half an hour into the party, when he pulls up with his cousin Mac in his pick-up truck and they quickly unload three crates of beer, plus a suspicious-looking box that gets promptly hidden in John B’s room.

John B then jumps back on the truck with Mac to go get some pizzas from the gas station. “Don’t worry about it,” he says when she offers to pitch in, says Uncle T left him thirty dollars for this. She still slips a twenty in his hand with a pointed look anyway.

When she steps back in, the party is in full swing.

There’s lots of people Kiara hasn’t seen in a while – kids their year she used to go to school with. A couple of girls eye her suspiciously, but overall everyone’s nice, and it’s good to catch up.

She finds Bonnie and Tiny, who used to run with her the very meager Environmental Club at Kildare Middle School, and they end up deep into a conversation on the lack of recycling points on the island. Music is blasting in the background, she’s holding a beer and enjoying herself. 

John B comes back with a stack of pizzas, and for a little while the whole party reshuffles, people making their way in and out of the kitchen and settling somewhere to eat. 

When she moves back to the kitchen to throw her paper plate in the bin she gets the first glimpse of JJ in a while, leaning back against the counter with a short brunette at his side.

“Is that Emma White?” she asks Pope, accosting him. The girl in question is all over JJ, a hand on his chest as she laughs animatedly at something he’s said. He slings an arm around her shoulders, dips his head down to hear what she’s saying over the party noise.

“Probably,” Pope quips, then looks conspiratorially at her. “She has a massive crush on JJ.”

“She used to sit next to me in Math class, in Eighth Grade,” Kiara muses, then scrunches her nose. “I thought she had better taste.”

“Are we talking about Em-barrassment?” John B chimes in, promptly turning his head to check on the pair. Kie almost snorts. Still, she slaps him half-heartedly on his arm. 

“Be nice!” 

If JJ knows the girl’s flirting with him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He pats her amicably on the shoulder as he passes her a beer, then leaves her hanging and steps closer to them.

“Kie, wanna team up for beer pong? We’re setting it up on the porch.”

“I thought I was your mate for beer pong!” John B pouts, and JJ flashes him a grin, patting him gently on his face.

“Aw, bub, we’ve been forbidden from pairing up, remember? Too undefeated or some shit.” He turns to look at her, expectant. “So, Kie? No offense, but Pope is kind of shit at throwing balls, and I have a reputation to preserve.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” she says, and JJ flashes her the brightest of smiles. She struggles to hide her own grin in return.

As they pass by the kitchen Emma perks on her chair.

“Hey, Jay” she calls after him.

Kie’s eyes widen on their own accord. She turns to Pope, mouths a silent, _“Jay?!?”_

Pope gives her a shrug, as if to say, _what are you gonna do about it._

JJ flashes a grin towards the poor girl. “What’s up?”

Emma’s smile is a bit rigid. Her eyes flicker between JJ and Kiara. “Hey, Kie,” she says.

“Hey, Emma. Nice to see you. Did you need anything?”

Emma looks like she suddenly remembered where she is, her attention switching back to JJ.

“Uhm, Jay? I thought maybe you wanted to pair up for beer pong?” 

JJ leans back, an arm easily slung over Kiara’s shoulders. “Ah, maybe later? I’m doing a round with Kie just now. Wanna join us outside?”

Emma looks like she’s sucked on a lemon. A part of Kiara feels bad for her, really – especially because she can _feel_ John B and Pope exchanging looks behind her head. But honestly, this is such a new feeling. Emma being… jealous of her? It makes her bite down on her lip to hide a smile, a warm feeling inside her. 

She doesn’t stop to think too hard about what it means.

Someone finds a deck of cards and they all gather on the couch to play Kings – although Pope decided that he’s had enough to drink for the night and he’ll play with soda. JJ sends him a scandalised look, tells him “You’re no fun, Pope,” in a serious tone. 

Kie rolls her eyes. “Stop harassing him, JJ.”

Peeler has never played and keeps asking them to repeat the rules, ends up drinking at each card drawn in the first round, but then her instincts kick in – or alcohol, who knows – and she becomes a ninja, scary speed and precision. John B draws the first eight and predictably names JJ as his mate. Two rounds and many drinks later, JJ draws the second and names Pope, temporarily forgetting that he’s strictly on soda, or maybe just not caring. When John B draws a King he makes a rule that Kie has to drink every time one of the Pogues drinks and she shows him the finger. Still, when she draws a two next she slams it on the coffee table and points directly at John B, and so all four of them end up drinking.

Once midnight nears they walk down to the little beach at the end of the road. Kie’s holding a stack of paper cups and her parents-approved bottle of sparkling cider. Peeler brought one too, and a couple of other kids got their hands on some actual sparkling wine, so there should be enough for everyone to have a little bubbles with their midnight toast. John B places the lantern down on the sand and JJ and his cousin drop the box of fireworks next to it.

“Why do I feel this is a terrible idea?” Pope asks, his torch light pointing down to aid with the set-up.

“Because it probably is,” she deadpans.

The crowd of people settles in some kind of a circle around them. Liam steps in to help JJ and Mac with the fireworks, Kie catches them arguing about something in the corner of her eye and prays to all that’s holy that they won’t end up losing a limb tonight.

“Guys, it’s 11:58!” Emma squeals, looking at her phone. 

Kie puts down the bottle at her feet, gets her phone out and quickly searches for a livestream of the Ball Drop. Turns her volume up to max but it still gets lost – the people nearest to her and Pope scoot closer to try and hear what’s going on.

“Everyone, quiet! It’s time!” She passes her phone to someone next to her to hold, and starts fiddling with the bottle, Pope ready next to her with the cups.

“10… 9… 8…”

Her fingers are cold in the midnight air as she pours cider in each cup for him to pass around.

“7… 6… 5…”

The bottle is soon empty and she turns around in slight panic, but somehow it seems everyone’s holding something – either from hers or some other drink.

“4… 3… 2… 1!”

“Happy New Year!”

Suddenly a whistle breaks the night, and then the sky erupts with an explosion of colour. The crowd around her gasps and cheers. Even Kiara has to admit it looks pretty damn impressive. From where they’re standing they get a clear shot of the Kildare Spectacle down at the marina, and in the distance the extravagant fireworks display in Figure 8, at the Island Club. The Cut is popping with homemade shows, little bursts of colour snapping here and there. The biggest one coming from the Boneyard, but their own little show holds its own.

JJ’s all laughter and soft smooth strands of blond hair in the flickering warm light of the fireworks. The sky explodes with red and golden streaks, purple and green. His white teeth shine through his wide, open smile, and something flutters inside her.

Her cheeks burn up, despite the cold night air, and her eyes widen as her gaze switches around the party. John B jumps in next to JJ, whopping at the midnight sky, a hand clasped on JJ’s shoulder; Pope standing just a few feet away, at the appropriate safe distance, his eyes bright in the reflection of the sparkler he’s holding. Someone passes her a similar one and she accepts with a smile, chugs down the last of her sparkling cider.

She looks at each of them in turn, John B, Pope, JJ. _JJ_. For one long, clear moment, everything clicks. All of it suddenly makes sense, the unmistakable meaning of those little moments when something inside her stirs just by looking at him.

And with clear certainty she knows she’s completely, royally screwed.

* * *

“Your birthday is coming up, honey,” her mom says taking a seat next to her on the couch. “Have you thought about what you’d like to do?

“Uhm, not really.” It’s the first week back to school after the holidays, and her birthday is still three weeks away. Kiara hasn’t really given much thought at all to it. Her mom is looking expectantly at her, though, so Kiara shrugs a shoulder. “Probably just something chill with the boys?”

Anna’s face all but falls.

“Well, yes, okay. But you do that all the time anyway. I was thinking more like a party, with your school friends?”

It’s Kiara’s turn to do a double take. 

“What? Mom, I don’t _have_ any school friends.”

“Oh, Kiara, stop being so dramatic. Remember last year? It was so much fun, why can’t we do something like that again, with Sarah, and the girls?”

Kiara remembers last year. She and Sarah had spent an afternoon crafting the guest list – which of the girls in their year were cool enough to be invited over. Her dad had made crepes and they’d played games, and then had a giant sleepover in the living room. Kiara didn’t really care who came along, she was happy to go with whatever Sarah said. As long as she was there.

“Mom, if you haven’t noticed, Sarah and I aren’t friends anymore. And everybody at school hates me, so.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure nobody hates you.”

Kiara refrains from saying what’s on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she asks, “Why can’t you just be happy for me to have a party with the Pogues. You know, my _actual_ friends?”

She’s hit a nerve, her mother’s lips are drawn in a tight line. Anna takes a deep breath, trains her eyes into her daughter’s.

“Kiara, honestly. I think it’s time you get over whatever argument you’ve had with Sarah. She’s a lovely girl, from a good family, you girls were so tight a few months ago!”

“But Mom–”

“And, okay, people fall out, I get that. But you really should start putting some more effort into your friendships at school. I’m saying this for you, honey, high school will be long and lonely if you don’t. And I just think that a party might be the perfect chance to reach out, send the right message.”

“I don’t _want_ to send any message. Don’t you get it?”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

Her dad is leaning against the french doors that lead into the den, alerted by the raised voices. 

“We were talking about Kiara’s birthday party, love.”

“And I was just telling Mom that I don’t want a birthday party!”

Her dad sends her a puzzled look. “Why not? It was a lot of fun last year, wasn’t it?”

Kiara wants to scream.

Instead she pinches the bridge of her nose, bites down a snappy retort. 

“It was, but it’s not what I want this year. Dad, I’m not friends with any of those people anymore, and Mom just wants me to send out a social invite as if I were some middle aged cat lady. I just want to do something fun with the boys, no big deal. Okay?”

Her dad takes it all in, sends a quick glance to her mother before turning back to her. He folds his arms in front of him, stands a bit straighter with his back against the doorframe.

“I think you mother’s right, Kiara.”

“What?”

“Those boys, they’re not good for you. I know you’ve known them since you were kids, and of course, John B’s having a hard time so you’ve been a good friend and supported him. But you’re not a child anymore, Kiara, a girl your age needs girlfriends, too. You can’t just keep running around with them like a… like–”

“Like what?” she snaps. Her dad sends her a stern glare but she doesn’t even care. How dare he, how can he even start talking about the Pogues like that. Her blood is literally boiling in her veins and she has to exercise all her self-control not to start yelling in his face. 

“I see those boys around, Kiara,” her dad doubles down, harsh. “Roaming around the island with too much time on their hands, skipping school and looking for trouble. Even the Hewards’ boy, he’s always bailing on his father to go do god knows what with the other two. They’re never gonna be up to any good, trust me. They’re not the kind of friends you want in your life.”

“You don’t even know _anything_ about them! You never took the time to get to know them or–”

“I know plenty of boys like that, okay? And unfortunately we can all see abundant examples of the kind of people they’ll become, marina rats and all that.”

“This is such bullshit!”

“Kiara!” her mom shrieks, “Language!”

“No, you know what? I’m done with this. I’m out.”

“Kiara, you get back here right now!”

But she’s stomping across the hall already, her dad’s bellowing voice tuned out. She grabs the keys from the side and she slams the door shut behind her.

The drive to the Cut is muscle memory. Her eyes are filled with angry tears and really, she probably shouldn’t be driving. But she can’t get to the Chateau soon enough. 

She pulls up the driveway and takes a moment to get a hold on herself. Dries the tears from her face. Light filters through the windows of the shaky shack, warm and inviting. She takes a deep breath, shuts the car door behind her.

As soon as she walks inside she can hear their voices coming from the living room. It briefly occurs to her that it’s a school night and they won’t be expecting her – might not have even been here at all. But they are, all three of them. Huddled on the couch, half-leaning over each other. John B is the first to spot her, and his face falls.

“Shit, Kie. Are you alright?”

He’s quick on his feet, coming up to meet her, hovering awkwardly around her. She spends a whole of three very long seconds trying to keep her shit together and then she blurts out, “My fucking parents, man.”

She starts rambling incoherently about it all, about birthday parties and stupid Kooks and Anna Carrera and her wannabe-debutante aspirations. To her own dismay she’s unable to stop the waterworks, wipes her face angrily on the back of her hand without skipping a beat from her tirade – now pathetically interspersed with choked sobs.

John B has visibly relaxed once he gathered she wasn’t in any physical pain or at risk of dying. He’s still somewhat stiff at the sight of her crying, and from the corner of her teary eyes she catches glimpses of the other two, sitting up awkwardly on the sofa. Finally, John B reaches out to her shoulders, pulls her into a hug. His hand gently guides her head towards his chest. She fists her hands in his scratchy sweater and stays there, pulling in shaky breaths and feeling like an idiot. 

Somehow, they all end up on John B’s bed in a giant cuddle pile. The boys are dorks and don’t know how to deal with emotions, but they still try. And she loves them endlessly for that.

“Thanks for letting me vent, guys,” she whispers. It’s pitch dark outside by now, and the room has a calm quiet about it. “I know it’s dumb. Such first world problems, a stupid birthday party. But thanks.”

John B snuggles closer to her, lifting his head from her shoulder to flash her a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

JJ reaches behind her to grab the spare pillow, and for a moment he’s just above her, their arms brushing for the briefest second. He looks down towards her, smiles softly. She feels like she can't breath for a second, can’t do anything but stare into his eyes in the darkness of the room. He settles back between her and Pope, and the moment passes.

She doesn’t come back home until hours later, just in time for her curfew. She doesn’t even spare a glance to her parents, marches straight into her room. To their credit, her parents let her be.

She comes downstairs the next morning and her mother is there, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Morning, love,” she says, pouring her a steaming mug of coffee.

Kiara accepts it as she takes a seat across the island. Doesn’t say anything, still guarded. 

Her mother sighs, quiet. “Look, Kiara. Can we talk a minute, please?”

Kiara shrugs. It’s too early in the morning to start a fight, but she’s also not gonna go out of her way to make it easier on her mom.

Anna is undeterred. She reaches across for Kiara’s hand, gives her a little squeeze. “Look, love. If you don’t want a birthday party, that’s fine. It’s your day, you can choose how to spend it.”

Kie sends her a suspicious look. “But?” she asks, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No ‘but’, that’s all. Honey, your dad and I just want you to be happy.”

“Okay… Thanks.”

“However,” _here it is._ “What I said yesterday still stands. It doesn’t have to be on your birthday,” her mom quickly adds, her hands raised. “But seriously, Kiara. It really wouldn’t kill you to put in a little more effort at school, would it.”

Kiara closes her eyes, slowly blows out a long, grounding breath. The sky is still dark outside and seriously, it’s too freaking early to start a fight.

Her mom stands up from her seat, walks around the island. Places a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don’t forget to eat something with that,” she says, motioning to the cup of coffee in front of her. “Be ready in fifteen, okay? I’ll drive you to the ferry terminal.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As soon as her mom leaves the room, Kiara lets her head fall into her arms, folded over the marble counter, and groans.

* * *

She relents, like she always does. She lets her parents take her out for her birthday, wears a fancy dress, does her hair up like her mother likes it. Lets them parade her around the Island Club. Bites down any nasty comments on the ridiculousness of this place, orders a squash soufflé which is freaking delicious and lets herself enjoy it, along with the cake. Smiles wide when the waiter takes a picture of them. Thanks her parents for their presents.

The following weekend when she walks into the Chateau there’s a cacophony of sounds coming from the living room – loud music, but mostly the boys arguing about something. She steps carefully into the room, leaning against the doorway with her arms folded, taking the scene in.

John B and Pope are each standing precariously on top of a chair, trying to hang a string of paper decorations to the ceiling with scotch tape. JJ is on the floor at their feet, struggling with a box of party hats, his tongue sticking out from his mouth in concentration. He’s wearing one of the party hats himself, all lopsided and almost falling off his head.

“What are you idiots doing?” she asks.

All three of them turn around at the sound of her voice, deer in headlights. Kiara brings a hand to her face, a vain attempt at covering her growing grin.

“...Surprise?” says John B, and the other two match with a smile. He jumps off the chair and comes to wrap her in a hug. “Happy birthday, Kie!”

“Happy Birthday!” Pope and JJ chorus behind him. There’s shuffling, and then she feels multiple pairs of arms closing in on her shoulders.

“You guys, stop!” She has stupid tears in her stupid eyes, this is just too much. The paper garland defying gravity, only half attached to the ceiling. Their dumb asses putting together a surprise party for her.

As she re-emerges from the group hug JJ puts a party hat on her head, the elastic string tight under her chin. “Here, much better look,” he says with a wink, and she snorts out a laugh.

The front door slams behind them, in the kitchen, the sound of heavy boots being kicked onto the floorboards.

“Is the birthday girl here already? Ah, darn!” Ted bellows across the Chateau.

She spins around to greet him and he’s dropping a frosted store-bought cake on the counter.

“Happy birthday, girl!” he opens his arms to her and Kiara dives onto him, returning the hug. “Hope this meets your expectations for your Sweet Sixteen.”

She pulls back, her cheeks hurting from how hard she’s smiling. “Are you kidding? This is too much, you guys, you really didn’t have to–”

“Nonsense!” Ted decides. He spares a look to the boys, an eyebrow furrowed suspiciously. “You lot better wash your hands before you get anywhere near this cake, understood? Johnny, did you find any candles?”

“No, but Pope brought some from the store.”

“Excellent. Come on, help me out with this.”

It’s chaos for a little while, drawers pulled open only to reveal no clean knives – Ted ends up fishing one from the kitchen sink and giving it a quick wash, muttering the whole time under his breath. Pope sets the candles on top of the cake, gets whipped frosting all over his fingers in the process and smears it over JJ’s face when he makes a comment about it. JJ swears in mock offense, but he still flicks out his zippo to light up the candles. Kie blows them off in one breath, the boys and Ted all cheering her on.

They cut and eat the cake. Ted pulls a few beers from the fridge that he passes around with a wink. Makes himself scarce afterwards, telling them to have fun without him. They move into the living room, sit crossed legged on the floor around the coffee table, John B pulls out the deck of cards from the credenza. They start with Go Fish, switch to Poker after a round, JJ predictably proposes strip poker and gets loudly shut down by everyone else. She laughs so hard her sides hurt. 

Afternoon turns into the evening. They move outside, decide to build the fire and roast marshmallows. She walks into the kitchen for a glass of water, pauses for a moment when she steps out on the porch, savouring the moment. The boys are arguing as always, JJ dumping random kindling in the pit and Pope freaking out about the optimal fire-building method. 

JJ raises his face and their eyes meet. Kiara smiles at him, her elbows on the railing. His face is soft, his hand runs through his hair. He pulls himself up on his feet and starts walking up towards her.

“Hey JJ! Lighter!” John B calls after him.

JJ turns on his heels, pulls the lighter from his pocket and throws it at John B, who catches it easily. He half jogs back to the house, then, climbs up the steps to the porch.

“Hey. Leaving us to do all the work?” he says with an easy smile.

“Oh, you know. Keeping my safe distance from the fire hazard.”

He comes to stand next to her, leans his elbows on the railing just like she is. Their arms are so close they almost brush on each other. He turns to look at her, lips crooked into a tiny grin, gentle. She smiles back, and something warm stirs inside of her.

JJ reaches into his back pocket, shuffles next to her. Produces a joint, perfectly rolled. Tilts it towards her with a grin, and a wink.

“Happy Birthday, Kie.”


End file.
